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goldfades · 4 months ago

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TROUBLE ─── RAFE CAMERON

request for blurb night! : "ev, hear me out—reader is sarah’s best friend who used to babysit wheezie. she's always thought rafe was just some spoiled rich kid until one night he helps her out of a dangerous situation, and she see a different side of him"

The sound of cicadas swells in the sticky summer air as you maneuver your car into the Camerons’ circular driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The house stands before you, grand and overbearing, like something pulled straight from a Southern Gothic novel. Even after all these years, it still has a way of making you feel out of place, like you’re trespassing on a life far removed from your own.

You killed the engine and take a deep breath, your hands lingering on the steering wheel. Coming here used to feel second nature—a daily part of your routine back when you were just Sarah’s friend who needed extra cash and Wheezie was a chatty eight-year-old who never seemed to run out of energy.

Now, it feels complicated. It’s not like you’re unwelcome here—Rose is always polite in her distant, Stepford kind of way, and Wheezie practically lights up whenever she sees you. Sarah treats you like family, but there’s always been one Cameron who makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

Rafe.

Spoiled, sharp-tongued, entitled Rafe, whose condescending smirk had been a permanent fixture of your teenage years. The golden boy with a black hole of a temper, a trust fund, and an ego that stretched for miles. You’d never understood him, and frankly, you’d never wanted to. He was a hurricane you learned to avoid at all costs, never lingering too long in his orbit.

But life has a funny way of pulling you into places you swore you’d never go.

You grab your bag from the passenger seat and step out into the muggy heat, your sandals crunching against the gravel. Somewhere inside the house, you hear the faint echo of laughter—Wheezie, probably, shouting at Sarah over a card game or some other nonsense. The sound makes you smile despite yourself.

You weren’t always someone the Camerons—or anyone from Figure Eight, for that matter—gave the time of day. Growing up, you were just another Pogue, another kid from the Cut with hand-me-down clothes and a chip on your shoulder. The people from Sarah’s world weren’t interested in you back then. Why would they be? You had nothing they wanted—no yacht, no country club membership, no sprawling waterfront property. You didn’t mind much. You had your own circle, your own rhythm, and you learned to brush off the condescending stares whenever you ventured into their territory.

But everything changed when your dad’s business took off. What started as a small, bare-bones construction company turned into one of the most in-demand firms in the Outer Banks almost overnight. Suddenly, the same people who used to look through you like you were invisible started remembering your name. Invitations to parties you’d never have been considered for started showing up in your mailbox. They weren’t just tolerating you—they wanted you there.

Sarah was one of the first to genuinely befriend you during that whirlwind of change. She wasn’t like the others, who only smiled at you because their parents said it was polite or because they wanted a favor from your dad. She liked you for you—your sarcasm, your groundedness, your tendency to keep it real in a place where everyone else seemed to be faking something. And through Sarah, you met Wheezie.

Wheezie was eight at the time, still caught between childhood and whatever it is that happens when you grow up as a Cameron. She adored you from the start, trailing behind you whenever you came over like a little shadow. You didn’t mind. She was funny, curious, and refreshingly unfiltered—a lot more like the kids from the Cut than anyone wanted to admit.

When Rose offhandedly mentioned they needed someone to look after Wheezie while she was busy managing the house (or hosting one of her endless charity luncheons), Sarah volunteered you without hesitation. “She’s perfect,” Sarah had said with that trademark confidence of hers, as though your schedule had already been cleared.

To your surprise, it worked out. Wheezie loved you, probably because you didn’t treat her like a chore or talk down to her like so many others did. You indulged her weird little interests, let her ramble on about books and whatever new drama she overheard in the house. You made her laugh.

And if the Camerons noticed you weren’t exactly one of their own, they didn’t seem to mind much anymore. After all, in their world, proximity to success was enough to erase just about anything.

Even after a couple years had passed, it’s a little funny how much has stayed the same. Every time you pull into the Camerons’ driveway, you still get the same sinking feeling, like you’re stepping onto foreign soil without a passport. Except now, it’s become a routine. Cameron game nights.

It started as an extension of the babysitting gig—a casual invite from Sarah, insisting you stay for dinner one night after watching Wheezie. Dinner turned into a board game that Sarah claimed was “super quick,” which turned into three hours of family chaos. It was ridiculous, overly competitive, and a little awkward with Rose monitoring everything like a referee, but Wheezie loved having you there, and Sarah was relentless in making sure you felt included.

At some point, it just became normal. Even after Wheezie grew out of needing a babysitter, the tradition stuck. Every week or two, Sarah would text you about game night, and somehow, you always said yes.

“You’re like an honorary Cameron,” Sarah had joked once, and you’d laughed because the idea of that felt ridiculous. But there were moments, like now, when you almost believed her.

Wheezie’s voice echoes from the living room the second you step through the door. “You’re late!”

“I’m literally on time,” you call back, closing the door behind you. The smell of freshly baked something wafts through the air, probably cookies Wheezie convinced Rose to make under the guise of a family bonding activity.

“Technically, Rafe’s late,” Sarah says, popping her head around the corner, already grinning. “You’re just cutting it close. Come on, Wheezie’s already plotting your downfall.”

You laugh and follow her into the living room, where the familiar chaos is already brewing. Wheezie’s sprawled across the couch, a pile of board game pieces spread out in front of her, while Ward sits in his chair, sipping a scotch like it’s all beneath him but still keeping a hawk’s eye on the rules. Rose flits between the kitchen and the table, not-so-casually reminding everyone to keep the snacks on coasters.

And then there’s Rafe.

He’s leaning back in one of the armchairs, his legs stretched out like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. A half-smirk tugs at his lips as he spins a stray game token between his fingers. He barely glances at you when you walk in, but you catch the faintest flicker of recognition.

It’s been years, but Rafe is still Rafe: cocky, restless, and way too pretty for his own good. He’s toned down some of the more obvious brattiness since the early days, but the edge is still there, sharp enough to cut if you’re not careful.

And, as always, you do your best to steer clear.

The quiet hum of the boutique fades behind you as you pull the glass door shut, twisting the key to lock it. The click echoes in the empty street, a sharp sound against the stillness of downtown this late at night. The once-bustling sidewalks are deserted now, the streetlights casting uneven pools of orange on the pavement. Most of the shops had closed hours ago, their dark windows reflecting the faint shimmer of the moon.

You adjust the strap of your bag over your shoulder and glance at your phone. 11:43 p.m. Later than you’d intended. It wasn’t your shift to close, but your coworker had begged you to cover for her last minute, and you couldn’t say no. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ve done this before. Downtown isn’t that bad, and your car is parked just a block away. Still, there’s something unnerving about the silence, the way the shadows stretch a little too far when you’re alone.

Reaching your car—a trusty but aging sedan that you inherited from your dad—you fumble with the keys before sliding into the driver’s seat. The interior smells faintly of the vanilla air freshener you keep on the rearview mirror, a comforting contrast to the chilly night air outside. You toss your bag onto the passenger seat, then grip the steering wheel as you turn the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

You pause, frowning. That’s… odd. Your car’s old, sure, but it’s never been completely unresponsive. You twist the key again, harder this time, willing it to come to life.

Still nothing.

A low groan escapes your throat as you lean back against the seat. This can’t be happening. Not tonight. Not here.

You pull out your phone, half-tempted to call Sarah or even your dad, but you hesitate. Sarah’s probably asleep by now, and your dad’s a good thirty minutes away—not to mention, he’d definitely give you a lecture about not keeping up with the car’s maintenance. Sighing, you pop the hood and step out into the cool night air, shivering slightly as a gust of wind cuts through your jacket.

The street around you is unnervingly quiet. A stray cat darts across the road, its shadow flickering under the streetlights. You glance around, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine. It’s just your imagination, you tell yourself. No one’s here.

With a deep breath, you lift the hood and stare down at the engine like it might magically fix itself. You know a grand total of nothing about cars, but you wiggle a few cables anyway, hoping for a miracle. When you try the ignition again, the result is the same—silence, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp overhead.

Panic starts to creep in now, slow and steady. Your phone’s battery is hovering at 10%, and downtown—normally picturesque and charming by day—feels like a completely different place at night. The empty windows of the closed shops look less quaint and more sinister, their dark interiors like gaping mouths.

You lean back against the car, tapping your fingers against the metal as you weigh your options. Call someone? Walk to the gas station a few blocks down? Stay here and wait it out? None of them sound appealing, especially with the growing sensation that you’re being watched. You tell yourself it’s just nerves, but your skin prickles anyway, and you can’t help but glance over your shoulder every few seconds.

“Great,” you mutter under your breath. “This is how horror movies start.”

You huff out a shaky breath and decide to at least look under the hood. Not that you know what you’re doing, but it’s better than standing here like a sitting duck. Popping the latch, you step out into the cool night air again, every sound amplified in the unsettling quiet. Your shoes scrape against the pavement as you walk to the front of the car, lifting the hood and leaning over the engine.

The faint metallic scent of oil hits your nose as you peer into the mess of cables and parts. It all looks like a foreign language to you, but you fiddle with a few wires anyway, hoping for some kind of miracle.

That’s when you hear it—footsteps.

At first, you think maybe it’s nothing, just your imagination running wild, but then you hear them again, deliberate and getting closer. Your stomach clenches, and you straighten up, instinctively glancing over your shoulder.

Two figures are walking toward you from the opposite side of the street, their strides slow and unhurried. The dim streetlights reveal faces you vaguely recognize—Kooks, no doubt, probably from the same parties Sarah used to drag you to back in high school. Their names escape you, but the looks on their faces don’t—grins too wide, eyes too sharp, the kind of predatory energy that sets every nerve in your body on edge.

“Car trouble?” the taller one calls out, his voice carrying an edge of amusement as they stop a few feet away.

You force a tight smile, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah, I’ve got it handled. Thanks.”

The shorter one, stockier and wearing a backward baseball cap, steps closer, tilting his head like he doesn’t believe you. “Doesn’t look like it,” he says. His tone is casual, but the way his eyes flick over you makes your skin crawl.

“I’m fine,” you insist, taking a small step back toward the car. Your heart is pounding now, a sick thrum in your chest, but you keep your expression as neutral as possible.

“Hey, we’re just trying to help,” the taller one says, holding up his hands like he’s harmless, but there’s something almost mocking in his tone. “No need to be rude.”

The stocky one smirks, moving to your other side, effectively boxing you in against the car. “Yeah, we’re just being friendly.”

The air feels heavy, oppressive, and the space between you and them feels like it’s shrinking by the second. You can feel the tension in their postures, the way they’re both leaning in slightly, testing how far they can push.

Your throat tightens as you glance around, desperate for someone, anyone to come walking down the street. But there’s no one—just you and these two strangers who clearly don’t care that you’re uncomfortable.

“Look,” you say, trying to sound firm but calm, “I appreciate it, but I’m good. You don’t need to stick around.”

The taller one laughs, a low, unpleasant sound that makes your stomach churn. “Aw, come on. You’re out here all alone. What kind of gentlemen would we be if we just left you like this?”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the hood, your mind racing for a way out. You consider making a run for it, but they’re too close now, their presence suffocating.

Just as the stockier one steps even closer, his grin widening, a voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding.

“What’s going on here?”

The relief is instant and overwhelming, like a lifeline being thrown to you in a raging sea. You turn toward the sound, and there he is—Rafe Cameron, standing just a few feet away, his hands shoved casually into his pockets but his posture rigid, his eyes hard as they lock onto the two guys.

The taller one straightens up immediately, his smirk faltering. “Rafe,” he says, a weak attempt at sounding friendly.

Rafe doesn’t respond, his gaze shifting to you for the briefest moment before snapping back to them. “Didn’t realize we were having a party,” he says, his voice calm but laced with something dangerous. “You two invited?”

The stockier guy takes a step back, muttering something under his breath. “We were just leaving,” he says quickly, his bravado crumbling under Rafe’s glare.

“Yeah, you are,” Rafe says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The two exchange uneasy glances before slinking away, their footsteps echoing down the street until they disappear around the corner.

For a moment, all you can hear is the pounding of your heartbeat and the faint hum of Rafe’s truck idling in the distance.

“You good?” Rafe asks, his voice softer now but still steady, grounding.

You nod, your throat dry as you manage to croak out, “Yeah… I am now.”

Rafe watches the shadows where the two guys disappeared, his expression unreadable, his jaw tight. You half expect him to say something cutting, maybe some sarcastic remark about how you can’t take care of yourself, but when he finally looks at you, there’s no smugness. Only something... softer, almost hesitant.

“You’re lucky I saw you,” he says, his voice low. “That could’ve gone bad. Fast.”

You nod, your throat still tight from the tension of the moment. He’s right. You don’t even want to think about how that could’ve ended if he hadn’t shown up. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe’s brow furrows like he’s surprised you said it. He leans back slightly, glancing at the car hood still propped open. “What’s wrong with this thing?”

“Won’t start,” you reply, gesturing vaguely at the engine. “Not that I’d know what to look for.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking up just slightly. “Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to.” His tone lacks the usual edge, though—it’s not a dig, just a statement.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there in the quiet. The night air feels less suffocating now, the earlier tension replaced by a strange calm. Despite everything you know—or think you know—about Rafe Cameron, there’s something about his presence right now that makes you feel… safe. It’s unsettling, in its own way.

“You should be more careful,” Rafe says, breaking the silence. His gaze is steady, not mocking or judgmental, just serious. “Downtown this late? Alone? That’s asking for trouble.”

You bristle slightly, your instinct to defend yourself flaring up. “I didn’t exactly plan for my car to break down.”

He raises an eyebrow, but instead of snapping back, he just nods. “Fair.”

The quiet stretches between you again, but this time, it’s not uncomfortable. Rafe steps closer, peering under the hood with a practiced air, and you’re struck by how uncharacteristically gentle he seems. No biting remarks, no smug superiority—just calm focus.

He taps a cable lightly, muttering something under his breath, then steps back, closing the hood with a decisive thud. “Battery’s probably dead,” he says, glancing at you. “You need a jump.”

You nod, your nerves finally starting to settle. “I guess I’ll call someone.”

“Don’t bother,” he says, already walking toward his truck. “I’ve got cables.”

You blink, caught off guard by his matter-of-fact tone. He’s not offering—he’s telling you he’s going to help. And for some reason, you don’t argue.

A few minutes later, Rafe has his truck pulled up nose-to-nose with your car, the cables stretched taut between them. He works in silence, his movements efficient, and you watch from the sidelines, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“You should get in,” he says, nodding toward the driver’s seat.

You do as he says, sliding back into the familiar confines of your car. The moment feels oddly intimate—just the two of you on this empty street, the hum of his truck filling the air.

“Try it now,” he calls out, stepping back.

You turn the key, but instead of the engine sputtering to life, it lets out a defeated whine and falls silent again. You try one more time, your chest tightening with frustration and dread, but it’s no use. The car isn’t going anywhere tonight.

You let your forehead drop against the steering wheel with a groan. Of course. Just your luck.

Rafe’s voice cuts through the night air, low and steady. “It’s not gonna work. Battery’s dead for real.”

You sit up, pressing your lips together as he leans against the open driver’s side door, his arms crossed. His expression is unreadable, somewhere between amusement and mild concern.

“Great,” you mutter. “So, what now? I call a tow truck and wait here till dawn?”

Rafe tilts his head, his gaze flicking over you briefly before landing on your car again. “Or,” he says, “I could just drive you home.”

The offer catches you off guard, and you hesitate, your immediate instinct to say no. Riding home with Rafe Cameron? That’s about as far outside your comfort zone as you can imagine.

But then you glance down at your nearly dead phone, the empty street around you, and the sheer impossibility of getting a tow out here tonight. What other choice do you have?

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Rafe shrugs, the motion easy, like it’s no big deal. “You got a better plan?”

You don’t.

“Fine,” you say finally, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat and climbing out of the car. The night air feels colder now, pressing against your skin as you walk toward his truck.

Rafe opens the passenger door for you without a word, and you slide in, the faint scent of leather and cologne filling the cab. It’s clean but lived-in—practical, not flashy, which surprises you.

He climbs in on the driver’s side, pulling the door shut and starting the engine with a smooth turn of the key. The sound is steady, reliable, and for a moment, you envy how effortlessly everything in his life seems to work.

The first few minutes of the drive are quiet, the only sound the low hum of the truck and the occasional creak of the suspension as it rolls over uneven pavement. You glance out the window, watching the darkened storefronts blur past, trying to ignore the strange tension sitting between you.

“You gonna sit there and sulk the whole way?” Rafe asks, his voice breaking the silence.

“I’m not sulking,” you shoot back, turning to glare at him.

He smirks, his eyes still on the road. “Sure you’re not.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m just… processing the fact that my car officially hates me. And that I had to be rescued by you of all people.”

His smirk softens into something closer to a smile, and for once, it doesn’t look mocking. “Yeah, well, it’s your lucky night, I guess.”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond, and the quiet settles over the truck again. It’s not entirely uncomfortable this time—just strange, like you’re both trying to figure out how to navigate this unexpected moment.

After a while, Rafe glances over at you, his expression more serious now. “You really shouldn’t be out here alone like that,” he says quietly.

You shift in your seat, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “I didn’t exactly plan for my car to break down,” you mumble.

“Still,” he says, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. “Things could’ve gone bad. You know that, right?”

You do. The memory of those guys, their leering smiles and the way they cornered you, is still fresh in your mind. A shiver runs through you, and you glance at Rafe, his profile sharp in the dim light from the dashboard.

“Thanks,” you say, softer this time. “For stepping in.”

His jaw tenses for a moment before he nods. “Yeah. Don’t mention it.”

The rest of the drive passes in a blur of streetlights and quiet conversation. When he finally pulls up outside your house, you feel an odd sense of disappointment, like the night is ending too soon.

Rafe cuts the engine and looks over at you, his expression unreadable again. “You good?”

You nod, your fingers curling around the strap of your bag. “Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

He hesitates, his eyes searching yours for a moment, and you swear you see something uncharacteristically soft in his gaze. “Anytime,” he says, his voice low.

You climb out of the truck, turning back as you reach your front door. Rafe is still there, leaning slightly out of the window, watching you with an intensity that sends a strange flutter through your chest.

“Night, Rafe,” you call out, your voice steadier than you feel.

He nods once, his smirk returning, but there’s a warmth to it now that wasn’t there before. “Night.”

You watch as he drives off, the tail lights disappearing down the street, and you can’t shake the feeling that tonight, something shifted. Something you didn’t see coming.

The living room is alive with laughter and the sugary smell of freshly microwaved popcorn. Wheezie is sprawled across the couch, her legs tangled in a blanket as she debates the finer points of the movie you’ve just paused, while Sarah snorts beside her, throwing a handful of popcorn in her sister’s direction.

You sit cross-legged on the floor, sipping from your drink and soaking in the warmth of the moment. It feels good to let your guard down like this—to laugh and tease and forget for a little while.

“Okay, but how does she not realize he’s the bad guy?” Wheezie demands, gesturing dramatically at the screen.

“Because she’s blinded by love,” Sarah says, grinning. “Or maybe she’s just as dumb as you are.”

“Excuse me?” Wheezie gasps, clutching her chest in mock offense.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I feel like if someone was being that obvious about being evil, I’d notice.”

“Would you, though?” Sarah teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey!” you protest, chucking a stray pillow at her.

The playful banter continues, the night stretching on in a haze of easy conversation and snack-fueled chaos. You’re halfway through arguing over which movie to watch next when the sound of the front door opening pulls your attention.

You glance toward the entryway just as Rafe steps inside, his hair slightly mussed, his keys jingling in his hand. He pauses when he sees you all, his expression flickering from mild surprise to something unreadable.

“What’s this?” he asks, his voice carrying that familiar mix of curiosity and amusement. “A girls’ night?”

“Yeah,” Sarah says, throwing a popcorn kernel at him. “And you’re not invited.”

“Tragic,” Rafe deadpans, stepping fully into the room. His eyes flick to you for a split second, and your stomach does an unexpected flip.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Just residual nerves from the other night. Nothing to do with the way his presence seems to fill the space or the way his gaze lingers just long enough to make your cheeks heat.

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “Don’t worry, I’m not staying.”

“Good,” Sarah says. “Bye.”

He ignores her, pushing off the frame and heading toward the kitchen instead.

“I’m getting more popcorn,” you announce quickly, needing a reason to escape the sudden heat prickling at your skin. You grab the empty bowl and dart toward the kitchen before anyone can respond.

The kitchen is cooler, quieter, and you exhale a sigh of relief as you cross to the counter. You’re halfway through scooping kernels into a bowl when you hear the low hum of Rafe’s voice behind you.

“Didn’t know you were here tonight.”

You jump slightly, glancing over your shoulder to find him leaning casually against the counter, his arms crossed and that infuriating smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah, well,” you say, turning back to the task at hand, “I’m kind of a regular around here.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his tone light but edged with something that makes your stomach flutter.

You keep your focus on the popcorn, refusing to let him get to you. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re interesting,” he shoots back smoothly.

You roll your eyes, but the flush creeping up your neck betrays you. “Interesting? That’s a stretch.”

Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm. “I don’t think so.”

His voice is closer now, and you glance up to find him standing beside you, his gaze fixed on your face. You freeze, your fingers tightening slightly around the bowl as you try to think of something—anything—to say.

“Relax,” he says, his lips quirking up into a grin. “You look like you’re about to run out of here.”

“I’m not,” you insist, though your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

He leans in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I was starting to think I might scare you.”

“You don’t scare me,” you say quickly, your voice a touch too defensive.

“Hmm.” His smirk deepens, and he leans back, giving you just enough space to breathe again. “If you say so.”

With that, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge and steps away, throwing one last glance over his shoulder as he heads toward the stairs.

“Goodnight, trouble,” he calls out, his tone teasing but soft enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You stand there for a moment, staring after him, your heart racing and your face burning.

By the time you return to the living room with the popcorn, Wheezie and Sarah are too busy laughing at some inside joke to notice how flustered you are. You settle back into your spot on the floor, your mind still replaying the way Rafe’s voice sounded when he called you trouble.

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lavenderspence · 8 months ago

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A bunch of cuties in love | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, nicknames (i think that's about it?)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Running late to a meeting with Strauss, Hotch leaves Jack with his favorite person - you. The scene that greets him when he comes back leads to some realizations.

Request: Hotch request: BAU!Reader is Jack’s favorite and always spends the day with them when he’s brought along to the office. They have a cute bonding moment that Hotch secretly watches. Cue the “oh god I’m in love with them aren’t I”

A/N: it’s been two months today since I made this blog, and it’s been wild, it’s been fun, and it’s been a little teary. thank you for the love and support! Please enjoy this cute little hotch piece, I had a blast writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this, and I’d love to hear what you think! Also, I miss old Disney😭

masterlist

9:23.

On the days you weren’t working on a case, and the only thing you really needed to catch up on was paperwork, your usual start time was 8:30. Yet almost an hour had gone by and he wasn’t in his office like he usually would be.

With a punctual Unit Chief like Aaron Hotchner, it was a shock, and a little nerve-wracking that he was late.

You’d lie if you didn’t say you were getting a little worried, taking into account the last and only time he’d been late - Foyet attacking him in his own home, leaving him with long-lasting trauma, scars, and without his family.

You'd never forget that day, and every day after where he was left to suffer, laying the blame on himself. No matter how many times you said it, how many times Rossi patted him on the back, reminding him it wasn't his fault, you knew a part of him still didn't believe it.

And the part of you that cared about him, maybe a little more than you should, didn't have the heart to watch him do this to himself - the silent guilt, the long empty looks.

You’ve known him awhile, seen him through many of his ups, and just as many as his downs. You’d seen him laugh in glee and beam with happiness, you’d seen him lose it in anger and anguish and you’d seen him cry in heartbreak.

So much of your life spent beside him, so many memories linked with him, and your team. And much of it you knew was friendly love - your love for Emily and Spencer, JJ and Morgan, Penelope and Rossi. But the love you felt for him was just a tiny bit different, deeper, not the friendly kind.

You’d only recently started to understand what you were really feeling for him, as recent as the last few weeks. Still new and a little unexplainable at times, you were learning to balance that, within your friendship.

You didn’t think you wanted to pursue anything, right now. It had been a little over two years since he’d lost Haley, since he’d needed to start navigating his life as a single dad, a widower.

You could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh as the day it had happened. You knew he was managing, but it was still apparent, that it was hitting them both hard.

And Jack? He was a little ray of sunshine in the otherwise gruesome life all of you led - the same could be said about Henry. But Henry was Reid's favorite, as his godfather, you knew the bond between them was unbreakable.

But Jack? You were his favorite, and he was yours.

He was your little buddy, your partner in all things art, cartoons, and Disney shows. He was your little helper during all things baking - you'd babysat once and he'd requested chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies and you'd been more than happy to help him make them.

He was a natural baker and a little taster.

Your love for the little cutie ran as deep as your feelings for his dad.

At the end of the day though, you were a friend, a shoulder both could use to lean on and rely on. You were comfortable in your role within their little family and weren't looking to make any changes then.

9:28.

You were playing with your watch, already having decided you’d be giving him a call if he didn't arrive by 9:30.

Worry was making your hands sweat, and just as you went to wipe them on your pants, the door to the bullpen opened, and in walked a very frantic Hotch - his tie was a little crooked, shirt a little wrinkled, and Jack - a little backpack on his back, and a curious look paired with a timid smile.

Aaron's eyes searched the bullpen, as did Jack's, the little Hotchner noticing you seconds before his father did. You stood up, watching as the blond pulled away from his dad, and on a little run, made his way towards you.

“Cutiee.” He called out, using the nickname you called him, to address you too. You leaned down when he was a few steps away, accepting his hug, his little arms wrapping around your neck.

“Hi, cutie.” You greeted him, a wide smile on your face. Hotch had made his way over to you by then, giving you a barely-there smile, but his eyes shone.

“You're late.” You started, pulling to your full height.

“Yeah, Jessica was called on an emergency at the last minute, and Liah is away on a hiking trip, so here we are.” Liah was Hotch's neighbor, she looked after Jack for a few hours when Hotch couldn't stay with him, or Jess was busy.

He looked at his watch, running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

“I have a meeting with Strauss…well, right now. Can you please watch him until I get done?”

“Go, don't make her wait. We'll be okay and we're going to have fun. Right, Jack?” You watched him nod at both you and his dad before Hotch exhaled.

“You're a lifesaver. Be good for Y/N, okay buddy.” Another nod from Jack, and he was on his way to Strauss's office.

‘’Okay Jack, let's see if Aunt Penelope can download a few episodes of ‘The Suite Life’ for us, and then we'll go color and draw for a while. Does that sound good to you?”

“Very good. Can I also have orange juice?” He asked, taking your hand in his small, soft one, fingers wrapping around your own.

“Let's go see if we have any.” You walked towards the small communal kitchen space, checking the fridge and then you checked the pantry…and, “Bingo. Let's go see the lair.” You led him to Penelope's office.

“Knock, knock, may us mortals enter?” You joked, making your little partner giggle.

“Us?” Her voice rang from the other side of the door.

“I have sir Hotchner with me. The smaller one.”

“Hey,” Jack said in outrage

“My favorite Hotchner.” You added.

Penelope pulled the door open, beaming at both of you, before she made space for you to enter.

“Jack, my love, hi,” She raised her hand, letting him give her a high five. Even though she was affectionate, Jack wasn’t as much, especially after Haley. He only hugged a few people now - Jess, his dad, and surprisingly, you.

It really showed how comfortable he was with you.

“What brings you to my tech cave?” She asked. You raised your brows at him, prompting him to do the talking.

“Can you, please, download a few episodes of Zack and Cody for us?” His voice rang with its usual child calm and sweetness, fingers intertwined in front of him.

Penelope's smile softened even more, “Sure thing, sweetie,” Her eyes turned towards you then, “Your tablet?”

“Yes, please.” You knew it was a work tablet, but no one had to know.

“Any requests?” She asked the little guy.

“You pick.”

“Okay-dokey. Should have it in about 10 minutes, my loves.”

“Thank you, Aunt Penelope.”

“Thanks Pen.” You gave her air kisses before you led Jack out and towards his father's office.

His day had started rocky, hell, the whole night had gone that way.

Jack had woken up from a nightmare - twice at that. After the second time, he’d asked Aaron to sleep in his bed, too scared and sad to stay in his room.

He’d snoozed his alarm, just once, and had a hard time waking his son up too. He’d had 20 minutes to get himself ready, but Jessica had called 10 minutes before she was supposed to arrive - apologizing because she’d been called on an emergency at work.

Aaron had to rearrange his whole morning then, already aware he’d be late for work. He’d had to get Jack and his backpack ready and cook him breakfast. All of that, and be in the office before his 9:30 meeting with Strauss.

Breakfast and preparing Jack for a day at the BAU, he’d done successfully. Arriving on time had been a little tricky, with barely 2 minutes to spare.

But when he’d walked into the bullpen, Jack spotting you just seconds before he did, and he’d watched your smile grow, he’d known all would be okay.

Watching you with Jack always brought a warm feeling within him, like he was watching something sacred. You were always patient and kind, always interested in listening to him talk, even though he was a quiet kid, who appreciated quality time more.

You gave him that too, and a lot of it - you watched cartoons and shows with him. Colored and drew, baked cookies, and played with him whenever he wanted. Any time spent with Jack was about what he wanted, what he liked doing, and above all, making him comfortable.

Even if it meant cleaning flour off your kitchen floor and whatever had gotten in the drawers too.

He appreciated, even loved the bond you had with his son, every smile, every hug, and every minute you spend with him. He loved hearing about you from Jack - what you’d done together, what you’d told him, the stories, the jokes, the conversations.

Hearing his son proclaim you as his favorite person in the BAU had made his heart soar. Taking into account all the time you spent with him, it wasn’t really a surprise. He bonded hard, but once he did, he never went back.

He was much like Aaron himself in that regard. His trust had to be earned, as did his friendship, and it required hard work. Jack was much the same. And you’d successfully earned both of theirs with your beautiful and caring personality.

He exhaled a breath, checking his watch, step fast, and briefcase in hand.

11:18.

His meeting with Strauss had run longer than he’d anticipated - over an hour and a half. Diplomacy, politics, budgets, and cuts, they’d run through countless things, half of that meeting already fully blacked out from his memory.

He was tired - every meeting with Strauss left him drained. Worried, about Jack and his state of mind after last night. All he wanted to do was get to his office and check up on his son.

Walking into the bullpen for the second time that day, he quickly made his way towards his office, only to stop short at the window. The blinds were open, having forgotten to close them last night, so he had a clear and full view of his office.

You were sat on the couch close to the armrest, Jack cuddled against you, cheek squished against your collarbone, face almost buried in your neck.

Your work tablet sat propped on the coffee table, and your arm wrapped around his small body, keeping him close. His eyes were almost closed, your thumb running soothingly on his back.

He watched, mesmerized by the scene. He felt himself soften, all of him. His face, the furrow in his brow, and the tight set of his lips. His whole body, his heart, suddenly at peace.

For months he'd observed the kindness you showed everyone - the families of victims, heartbroken by the injustice of life. Passersby, people you might never see again. Your team, especially, your work family. Jack, and even Aaron himself.

And as he watched you with his son, the one person left in this world who truly loved him, no matter his rights or wrongs - he couldn't help but feel himself unravel.

Every little thought he'd had about you, every feeling he might have somehow suppressed in order to protect himself and his child, they all attacked him, in seconds.

Because the truth was, you earned his trust, his friendship, and somehow along the way, you'd won his heart as well.

Right at that moment, his heart pounded in need, in adoration, in pure, clear love. Love he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Haley. Love, he'd frankly hadn't felt in years, ever since he’d put his signature down on the dotted line.

He wanted to get home to see this. He wanted to see you put Jack to bed, and kiss his forehead with a whispered ‘good night’.

He wanted to stroke your cheek tenderly, pull you into a kiss that made you melt, and stroke a fire within you like no one else could.

He wanted to tell you he loved you - in the car, as he drove you to work. In the kitchen during breakfast and dinner. In his office, a few stolen moments as you worked. And under the sheets, while you made love.

And even through the fear that gripped him in a vice, of rejection, separation, and even trust - he still wanted to love you, as if he was loving someone for the first time again.

“Everything okay, Aaron?” David asked, passing on the way to his office.

Aaron barely spared him a glance, nodding his head a little, “Yeah, it's okay.”

He pushed the door to his office open and walked in, greeted by his new favorite sight, and his two favorite people.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotchner x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner request

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beardedjoel · 19 days ago

Text

ride

joel x f!reader

request: "prone, leaving a hickey on their neck, in a truck bed" sent in as part of my 5k celebration! or you try to grapple with feelings for your parents' friend while getting absolutely railed by him 🤠 6.5k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (unspecified but college age reader and it's said that joel is over twice her age), oral f receiving, unprotected piv, pr0ne b0ne, creampie, hickeys, dirty talk and pet names, bit of daddy kink (sue me okay), angsty feelings, alcohol, reader has a mom and dad and clothing is described (shorts and t-shirt).

a/n: saw this prompt and instantly loved the visual! such a fun one to write, and i got weirdly caught up in these two having history and a bit of angst so it ended up way longer than i anticipated (aaand everybody is thinking we are not surprised julie couldn't shut up).

Today had you on edge, taking in your surroundings more dutifully, fearing the rounding of corners on campus in case you’d run into him. You try to pretend you don’t want to see him, but can’t deny the sinking feeling in your stomach as you arrive for your shift that evening without having any chance encounters. You hate that you’re imagining how one would go as you wait on your tables, how you’d pretend you hadn’t even thought about the possibility of him also being on campus for parents weekend. Casual. It was totally, completely casual - the same sentiment you’d been trying to convince yourself of for months.

His daughter Sarah is only a year younger than you and ended up at the same university a couple of hours from your hometown. You’d played little league soccer together for a few years as kids, and your parents became much faster friends with Joel than you and Sarah ever did.

Despite Chip’s Bar & Grille being located off campus, it doesn't seem immune to the influx of people due to parents weekend as you weave through your tables, a sweat breaking out on your neck. Your asshole of a boss - the Chip of Chip’s Bar and Grille - never quite learned how to keep the temperature comfortable in here for the workers. He’d also declined your request to have tonight off to spend with your parents - too many other coworkers of yours had the same idea as you with people’s parents being in town, apparently. You know he also simply just enjoyed telling people no.

You plaster on a fake grin as you carry a tray of beers over to a rowdier group of men, probably here to watch Friday Night Football or something, judging by their team spirited paraphernalia. They’re already a few drinks deep, getting increasingly more bold with their commentary towards you, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with here before. You easily brush it off, navigating your way through their charged remarks with grace and sweet looks that should only boost your tips, letting the act drop dramatically as soon as you walk away from them.

Karina, the hostess - a sweet girl around your age - flits up to you, buzzing information in your ear. “Table 19 just got sat. Said it’s your parents, I think?”

You smile to yourself - it’s thoughtful that your parents would brave the greasy, unappetizing food at Chip’s just to see you twelve hours earlier than planned. They instantly glow and warm up at the sight of you, looking slightly out of place but nothing short of comfortable. They were the type of people that could adapt nearly anywhere.

“Hey, honey!” your mom trills, hugging you tight, pressing the slightly damp t-shirt you’re wearing into your back.

“Sorry. Sweaty,” you warn her too late, getting a chuckle in your ear. Your dad squeezes you tightly next, and when they go to sit down, you notice with confusion that Karina has placed three menus on the table.

Your eyes snap up to the front door just in time to see a familiar, broad form step into the fray, weaving his way through the bodies and tables. His eyes scan across the restaurant - dark and brooding as always - then land on you, standing tall above where most people are seated at their respective tables. Your stomach leaps, leaving your breath caught in your throat, him letting his lip twitch into some semblance of a smile - or a smirk, rather, given how haughty he looks right now.

For that brief second, it’s only the two of you in this bustling, noisy room, before the bubble bursts and he stalks over to you and your parents. It’s only then his eyes are torn off of yours, leaving you breathless and confused. And angry.

“Oh, good, already got us a table. Parkin’ was weirdly a nightmare out there,” he says, smooth and silky, announcing his presence. With one more flicker of his eyes to yours just before your mom pops up to hug him, blocking you from view, you see the mischievous amusement behind them. He’s enjoying the fact that he’s caught you off guard, that you’re flustered by his mere presence alone.

Yeah, angry sounds right. Joel Miller: certified prick.

After the fuss settles down, your parents explain they ran into Joel at a cafe when they got to campus this morning while you were still in class. Being their gracious, hospitable selves, they’d promptly invited him to come out to dinner with them tonight to catch up. Just your luck.

“The rest was history. Joel seemed awful happy to get to see you too, know it’s been a while,” your dad happily and obliviously trills.

You’ll bet he seemed happy.

Joel moves in for an embrace, and you stiffen before feeling his meaty, thick arms draping around you, the warmth of his chest pressing closer, his breathing in your ear. Everything feels lit up inside of you, sparks skittering across your skin. You beg your knees not to buckle, reminding yourself that refusing to hug him begs more questions than you’d like from your parents. You try not to melt into the familiarity of it when your arms fling around his neck, try to keep it… casual. The word bites at you, stinging deeper each time you try to convince yourself of its place in this relationship.

“Hey there, sunshine. How you been?” he mutters in his slow, sweet drawl. You can’t help but smile at your favorite pet name he’s had for you for years, wishing to wipe it off your face as he pulls back and sees it. There’s a returned softness there beneath all his amused loftiness.

“G-good. Good,” you manage to stammer out. “How’s the business… How's Sarah?”

You watch on as Joel stays planted right in front of you, the moment lingering longer than necessary or normal. You watch him have the same realization, clearing his throat and turning to pull out his chair, sitting down.

“Good,” he echoes you, smiling softly. “And good. Girl’s too busy with friends to see her old man tonight, though. Stuck with these two now.” He jabs a thumb in the direction of your parents.

The dig gets a hoot out of your mom, her hand playfully nudging him. The noise of her balking breaks you out of your reverie where your eyes had been plastered on his features, begging them to tell you anything.

You suck your lip between your teeth, blinking a few times to snap yourself out of this haze. You’d wanted this, hadn’t you? A chance to run into Joel, knowing that parents weekend would likely bring him this way. It’s too much, too… intense, to see him in your workplace, somehow merging his life with the one you lived separately from him. Back home the two of you had been on equal footing, but now he invaded your space, the places you were able to go to get away from whatever this was, to get away from him.

“I - I’ll go check on my tables. You guys decide what you want to order and I’ll come back. And I’ll talk to Chip about a family discount, or something.”

Your dad insists it’s not necessary before you scurry away, but you ask anyway. Chip unsurprisingly argues with you, huffing and puffing and generally being the asshole that he is.

“You want a discount for your family? And where’s that money gonna come from? Maybe from your tips tonight? Would that work for you? Hm?”

“Forget it, Chip.” Muttered under your breath, you roll your eyes, feeling dejected as he stalks off to likely terrorize someone else or put on his fake schmoozing act with a loyal customer.

When you glance back at your parents across the room, Joel’s eyes are on yours, intense and questioning. They burn into you, making you immediately turn away, trying to hide the glistening of tears from Chip’s beratement. It’s dumb, really. He’s always this big of an asshole. You aren’t sure why you expected anything other than his default or a single generous thing from him.

After pulling it together enough to do the rounds on your tables, you stop back to take your parents’ and Joel’s orders. Joel seems like he’s stewing, his energy quiet and distracted as he glances down at the menu, ordering a cheeseburger with a distant voice.

It’s not until you’re off at the point of sales system tapping in their orders that a presence sidles up beside you, the voice deep and hushed.

“That your boss there? The one lookin’ like he’s got somethin’ shoved up his ass?”

You do a slow turn to peer at Joel incredulously, glancing around as if you’re caught in a compromising position. You suppose maybe you are, but at least your parents are out of view from where you’re tucked back in the little hallway leading to the restrooms. It’s cramped back here with the service station, leaving Joel’s body close to yours.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, instead of answering his question.

“It’s not a crime to go to the bathroom,” he quips back. “Answer me.”

“What? You’re gonna beat him up?” You give Joel a pointed look before focusing back on the screen, punching in your dad’s Dr. Pepper.

“No, jus’ wanna know why a boss is out here makin’ his employees cry.”

“I wasn’t crying. He - he’s just an asshole. And why do you care? You’re not my -” you cut yourself off, shaking your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s fine. I promise. Please just… why are you here, Joel?”

“Havin’ dinner with your parents.”

You have to force in a deep, calming breath before sighing it out. “You like this. Surprising me, catching me off guard. You’re the one being an ass now.”

Joel visibly softens at your stressed demeanor. “It’s also not a crime to want to see you, y’know. And have some fun trippin’ you up along the way. I didn’t realize -”

Your eyes linger on his face for a long, quiet moment, burning with frustration and contempt and something deeper you won’t allow yourself to access. “I’ve got to get back to work,” you say, concluding the conversation as you snap the notebook containing your orders shut and push away from the computer. You brush past Joel’s shoulder, turning to glance back at him.

“It is nice to see you,” you utter, half hoping he can’t hear it over the bustle of the restaurant. When his lips twist to the side in a lopsided smile, you know he did.

“You too.”

Joel seems to behave the rest of the evening, paying the proper, appropriate amount of attention to you, treating you like the family friend that you are and nothing more. Just as it should be, you remind yourself every time a pang of sadness pulses through your chest.

When they pay and leave, you breathe a sigh of relief, working the rest of your shift with an odd buzzing in your head, picturing Joel’s tanned skin and rugged lines. The memory of the feeling of his body close to yours in that hallway makes you shudder, then curse yourself.

A mixture of disappointment and irritation worms its way into your mind as you realize that was your chance. That was the time you got to spend with Joel this weekend, when he was so close within your grasp. He’d be busy tomorrow, spending time with Sarah, letting her tote him around campus - showing him where she takes her classes, her favorite places to eat, her dorm that is likely decorated with purple accents and posters of her favorite bands.

You’d missed the opportunity to actually see him, too busy being pissed at him for existing in your sacred space, for never leaving you alone no matter how hard you tried to get him out of your head. You never knew when the next time would come around - even if you were back home, time spent around Joel was never guaranteed. Nor was it appropriate.

You worry your lip into oblivion, realizing it’s for the best, anyways, as you push the back door to the bar open after your shift, letting the cool night air greet your grimy, post work skin. You go to round the building, heading for the bus stop on the main street that will take you exactly twenty five minutes and eleven stops back to your dorm.

A voice cuts in, seeming to come from the darkness itself. “You always wear shorts that short to work?”

God damn it. You flinch and then press your lips together, slowly turning your head to the corner of the parking lot, following the gruff, familiar voice. You see Joel leaning against the front of his truck, arms crossed over his chest. He’s half illuminated by the streetlamps placed periodically across the asphalt, casting long shadows on him. The blue flannel he wears is stretched tightly over his arms, the sleeves rolled up to reveal those forearms that make you feel more than you’d ever care to admit.

“Better tips,” you reply, nonchalant. You adjust your bag on your shoulder, walking over to him. You stop short, giving a wide berth between the two of you, attempting to avoid the always inevitable pull you feel towards him.

“That so?” he says, sounding amused. Joel lets his eyes roam up from your feet, scanning your bare legs, drinking you in all the way up your chest until his gaze rests on your face where it softens. He’s obvious about it, not caring to hide the lust that lives between the two of you now that you’re alone.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, feeling like a broken record. You watch as he turns and starts walking to the back of the truck. You peer around to see the bed is open, staunchly crossing your arms and not following him.

“Thought I’d give you a ride home,” Joel throws over his shoulder.

“What if I had my own car here?”

“You don’t,” he punches out. “Parents told me they hate you takin’ the bus so late.”

You quietly groan to yourself. Of course they did.

“And I thought you could use one of these after a long shift,” Joel adds on, proudly holding up a six pack of cheap, generic beer, strung together by plastic loops. You give him a sardonic laugh, finally giving in and making your way to the back of the truck. Joel has it parked with the bed facing the far corner of the parking lot, looking directly into the thicket of trees beyond that separates Chip’s from the McDonald’s behind it. It’s late, the lot nearly empty and the businesses around you all quieted down for the night. Some kind of thickness hangs in the air, otherworldly and separating you from reality, pressing in on you to be so alone with Joel.

“Aren’t you driving?” you ask, brows raised.

“Ain’t for me. It’s for you.”

“Miller Lite,” you say, gesturing to the six pack. “Clever. And disgusting.”

He smirks, tearing one out of its loop and handing it to you. It’s chilled, but not cold, and you nearly grimace. You don’t even like beer, but being around Joel still makes you nervous so you crack it open, listening to the little click of the pull tab and ensuing fizzy noise from the liquid inside, then take a long swig.

“Attagirl,” Joel comments passively. Your heart flutters at the small praise and you peer at him, doelike, from over the can, hoping your eyes don’t give you away. Of course they do, they always do. You look down, shuffling your feet, clad in your black, non slip work sneakers.

His hand is hesitant, reaching out to you from where he now leans against the open truck bed, clasping around your wrist with a gentle authority. It tugs you, forcing you to take a step towards him.

“Joel…” you warn, still unable to bring your eyes up. You know if you do, you’ll fold.

“Hm?” he rasps, moving you closer still. Joel’s legs and feet come into view, thighs thick and meaty in their denim, his work boots dirty and scuffed. It made something inside of you flutter again, these details about him. You liked his mess and his manliness, the way he didn’t give a shit if his shoes were dirty, but that they were functional. You like his worn denim with the outline of his wallet seared into the back pocket from too much use. You like… him.

“Come sit,” he begs of you, and despite your best efforts, you’re unable to resist. You hop up onto the back of the truck, letting your feet dangle while taking another sip of crappy beer. He pulls himself up next to you, and leans closer, knuckles brushing along your neck, making you shiver. It’s heavenly and electric, everything you’d craved and missed and wanted, never able to stop thinking about these calloused hands and the man they’re attached to.

“We… we can’t do this again,” you force yourself to utter, fiddling with the pull tab on the can held in your lap.

Joel’s hand freezes. “You got a college boyfriend now or somethin’?” he spits out, unable to hide the greed from his voice.

“No…” you admit.

“Alright, why not then?”

“We just… shouldn’t.”

“Y’weren’t sayin’ that over winter break. Or durin’ Thanksgiving, or the summer before that when I was fuckin’ myself deep inside of you, lettin’ you call me your daddy,” he drawls out lazily, continuing to softly revere your neck with his hands, slowly moving to your shoulder and back, fishing underneath the collar of your branded Chip's tee shirt to find bare skin.

You swallow hard, feeling your cheeks blazing at the memories of how caught up in it you’d gotten. “I - I don’t think…”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Just don’t think.”

You finally dare a flash of your gaze to his, finding his eyes dark and wanting. “Joel…” you plead again, unsure of how to express anything else. “This isn’t… right. Who you are to me, my parents. You know that, right?”

He licks his lips and nods, moving in close and ghosting them over your neck. Your eyes roll back, your touch-starved, needy body begging you for more. “Torture myself over it all the damn time, pretty girl,” he rasps right next to your ear.

“Then why did you come here tonight?” you ask in a lusty whisper as his lips attach to your skin, sucking softly. Your breath catches in your throat, fighting a whine.

“I don’t know. I jus’... did,” he says earnestly, sounding pained. “I wanted it. Didn’t care ‘bout the rest. I wanted to see you, just us.”

Your heart pitter patters in your chest, that pesky, squeezing feeling of it that always takes over around Joel pulling taut. You know he doesn’t mean it, that he doesn’t want you. He wants what you offer - your body, your naïveté to stay involved in this, your company when he’s lonely. It was hard to say just how Joel felt about you, because he’d never dare say it out loud for fear of making this too real.

His scent invades you - musky and something fresh and nature inspired, pine maybe - and you feel yourself folding in real time.

“Joel…” you warn one last time without any resolve behind it, eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzles into your neck. You want this. You don’t want this. You want him. You don’t want this uncertainty, this unstructured and wild thing that you two have become tangled up in.

It happens before you can even register your body moving of its own accord, crashing your lips into his waiting ones. His hands are fast, eager, to touch every part of you now that you’ve given some semblance of a go ahead. Squeezing, groping, one hand relishing in the feel of your tits, the other cupping your cheek, pulling you deeper into the searing kiss.

“Fuck,” he mutters when your hands move with equal fervor on his body - squeezing his thigh, wrapping around him the to clutch the hair at the base of his neck. “The hell says we shouldn’t be doing this…”

You shake your head, smiling into the kiss. “Probably everyone.”

“Makes me want you more, baby,” Joel counters, and you nod feverishly in agreement, squeaking in surprise when he pushes you down to the truck bed, swinging himself over to straddle you. His weight crushes down, comforting and arousing all in one, no time to even dwell on it before his lips are on yours again, a hand plunging between to cup you through your shorts. Warmth flows freely between your legs, the fabric dampening the sensation but it’s still too much, too built up, and you buck your hips.

“I want these shorts gone,” he demands. “Everyone wishin’ they got a peek under these, givin’ you all those tips, except at the end of the night it’s me right here, gettin’ everythin’ they want.”

Your head goes fuzzy, swimming with lustful thoughts as his dirty talk ramps up. It turned out that Joel Miller had the filthiest mouth you’d ever encountered, something you’d never have expected from the quieter, gruff man. He was an archetype of southern politeness most of the time - not without his sass, sure - but you’d never expected… this.

“Take them,” you breathe out. Joel grins above you, unbuttoning the shorts with ease, hooking his fingers in the sides.

“You’d let me, really? Right here… right out in the open?” Joel tsks, the grin on his face spreading into something wicked. You blink back to reality, to the parking lot around you, and yet your answer remains unchanged.

“Yes,” you whisper, feeling shame burn at your cheeks.

Joel works your bottoms down slowly, taking your panties with it and speaking unhurriedly. “Let anyone who comes to see what all the fuss is about see all of this, would you?”

“Yes,” you answer dutifully.

“God damn.” He chuckles, tossing your shorts to the side, leaning back to glimpse at the bottom half of you, now exposed to him. “Dunno what’s worse. This, or that closet at your parent’s place. You’re a dirty little bitch, ain’t you?”

You nearly growl. “You love it,” you shoot back, spreading your thighs wide open for him.

Staring between them with a certain wonder about him, he answers. “I do.”

He sinks himself down, moving to pleasure you, pulling your clit into his mouth and giving it a gentle suck. You yelp, a tiny squeak that has your hand flying over your mouth to quiet yourself down.

Joel moves his tongue to lap at your folds, drinking in the sweet slickness you’ve already poured out for him. The slickness that had been pooling between your thighs just at the sight of him earlier tonight.

“You been this wet all night for me?” he asks incredulously, toying a finger through it now, circling your clit in a slow, tortuous circle.

You whimper first as an answer. “You - you make me -”

“I know I do. Ain’t easy to hide a hard fuckin’ cock under the table with your parents either, y’know. Wearin’ shorts like that on that gorgeous ass of yours.” He tsks into your pussy before slurping again, groaning as your arousal starts to coat his beard.

Your chest heaves, desperately needing more from him, his satisfaction with toying with you going longer than you can handle tonight. Not after how long it’s been.

“Please, J-Joel.”

He chuckles darkly. “We both know that ain’t the name you want to call me right now.”

He was right, the word had hung on your tongue since the second you’d been alone together, since you felt his warm hands exploring your skin. It came out somehow more naturally than you’d expected or even wanted, but something about it just felt… right.

Self conscious, you hold back and grumble as he withholds contact from you, staring up expectantly. “Come on, angel. I wanna hear it, too. Been too long.”

“Please, daddy…” you correct yourself shyly, readjusting to the word on your tongue. Joel’s face, shadowed by the yellow light of the closest streetlamp, breaks into a smirk.

“That’s right. Right now, when we’re like this, I’m your daddy, aren’t I?”

You nod and he continues to lick your needy cunt as a reward, swirling his tongue over the delicate bud near the top. “Yes, you are.”

Joel’s tongue moves faster, urged on at your breathless cries for him. “And you’d want to come for your daddy, wouldn’t you?”

The words twist your core tighter, the warmth building to a near breaking point. “G-god, yes. Y-yes!” You cry out louder as he sinks a finger inside, crooking it to make you go a little dizzy. You clamp a hand over your mouth again, tighter this time, stifling your cries.

Joel pulls back, a string of saliva and arousal connecting the two of you. His finger keeps the pressure on that spot inside of you, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin as the most painful tease.

“Nuh-uh. Think you should be loud. Unless… you don’t want your coworkers to hear ya? Or better yet, that asshole boss of yours?”

You picture the ramifications of what Joel is saying, the way Chip’s face would go red, twisted up in anger before he likely fired you. You break into a cheeky smile, and without conviction you say, “I - I shouldn’t."

“You should be doin’ a lot of things right now, sweetheart. But here we are. Don’t act like you don’t like the idea of pissin’ off that bastard.”

You chuckle, nodding in a dazed agreement as Joel glides his nose over your sex, flicking his tongue out periodically and making you start to squirm impatiently. “Bet he wants to fuck you, too. Such a pretty, perfect girl. Bet he wants to bury his mouth in this sweet god damn perfect cunt.” He punctuates his words with a deep inhale to your pussy, his nose now tracing a little circle over your clit.

His words send you reeling - something about the possessiveness he holds over you makes you clench around his digits like you’ve never done for anyone else. “Please -” you beg before you can even think.

“Please you want him to fuck you?”

You sigh in lustful, irritated frustration. “D-damn it, Joel. No. You.”

“Need daddy to fuck you good, don’t you? These college boys ain’t doin’ it for you, are they?” he purrs into your skin, finally pulling himself from between your legs to glide up over your body, shielding you completely.

You feel yourself flush hot, still sheepish even after all these months affected by his dirty words and that stupid, yet hot - so hot, god why is it so hot - title he’s bestowed himself. A tickle of embarrassment creeps into your belly knowing that you’ve hardly pursued anyone at school, never able to find exactly what you’d already had all along - only it wasn’t yours to keep. It never could be.

“I - I -” you mumble, avoiding eye contact as his face hovers above yours.

“What? They’re that bad?” he teases, and you bite your lip.

“There aren’t many… relations going on, okay?” You grimace, finding his dark eyes and seeing him amused, yet studying you carefully, more seriously.

Joel throws you the tiniest smirk, but his voice is deep and sincere. “Damn shame for all of them. But makes me awful happy to hear on account of myself.”

You swallow, nodding, feeling an anxiousness playing in your belly. “Have - have you…? Since we last…?” You don’t know why you even ask, why you’re hellbent on setting yourself up to be hurt.

Joel hesitates, debating for a moment, then leans in to kiss you, long and deep. He pulls back, then shakes his head. “Not since December, no.” The words are hushed, whispered, one hand squeezing at your hip.

The moment is tense - too much so - and the urge to escape it crashes into you. You shift underneath him, pressing your hips up into his to entice him. “Don’t you want to fuck me then before ol’ Chip gets his chance?”

Joel practically growls, his hold going tight. “Wouldn’t fuck you like I do.”

You shake your head, licking your lips and feeling the flicker of desire reignite between your thighs that had briefly paused. “We’ll see about that,” you say, raising your eyebrows.

“God damn it, kiddo, you’re tryin’ to piss me off.”

“It’s better when you’re irritated with me -” You lick your lips, your hands finding the waistband of his jeans, toying with it. “Daddy.”

That same growl erupts from his throat, aggravated and breathless. His hands scramble with yours to free his cock, and you can’t help but peer between your bodies to catch the sight of it. You love every bit of his body, love seeing the way it moves for you, with you. The way that it evokes things in you you’d never known possible, hitting all of your buttons just right.

Only getting a short glance at his erection, your body is quickly handled by Joel’s rough, eager hands rolling you onto your stomach. You’re held down immediately, his weight crushing into you, nearing on uncomfortable with the bumps and ridges in the bed of the truck. One hand presses to the back of your head as he mounts you, the hot skin of his cock teasing at your ass.

All you can do is whimper, your head straining to look back at him as he spreads your ass cheeks, slipping between them and to your slick core, nudging at your entrance. Anticipation hangs in your labored breaths until he enters you, the tension released in an exhale of relief and sharp tenderness at the full stretch of him.

Joel wastes no time slamming into you, satiating every fantasy you’d had of him, every desirous, late night thought that caught you off guard since your last rendezvous. It was always just as you’d remembered it - a miraculous connection of your bodies that seemed to stump the two of you every time you’d tried to make sense of it.

“Hell yes, angel, you always take me so good, so perfect,” Joel grunts out as he thrusts into you. “Never complainin’, jus’ takin’ what you’re meant to.”

Your eyes roll back slightly as he presses impossibly deep inside of you. Despite everything - his size, your ages, the myriad of reasons this shouldn’t even be happening right now - it feels like the perfect fit.

“S-so good,” you whine , breathless as his body starts to lean in close, his chest pressing against your back.

“So good, who?” Joel reminds you, his voice now rumbling right in your ear.

“F- Daddy. So good daddy,” you quickly spit out, lost in the moment. Joel had once called you cock dumb, and you’d wanted to scoff, but moments like these proved it to be a very real phenomenon. You typically consider yourself relatively level headed, but right now you’re completely helpless to the power he holds, all thought centered on the way he slips in and out of you, every sensation and nerve lit up from the drag of the head of his cock inside of you.

You shudder, feeling his hulking form so close as he brings his lips to your ear, wet kisses trailing to your neck. He’s always loved your neck - it was the first thing he’d deigned to touch all those months ago that had felt charged, different than your typical interactions. That’s when he’d drawn you in, hooked you and pulled you into this whirlwind.

You scramble a hand back to reach for him, touch him, but he grabs it, tracing his fingers over your palm, interlacing them with yours for a brief moment before your wrist is pinned down. He fucks you harder, faster, his lips bouncing against your neck before they latch on, sucking hard.

“J-Joel!” you cry out in a panic, realizing the possibility of a mark being left with an impending meet up with your parents tomorrow.

“It’ll be fine,” he purrs against your sensitive skin, sucking a little harder before moving to another spot. "Jus' leavin' you with a little somethin'."

You see stars as his cock presses as deep as it can go on his next thrust, and you lose the will to fight a losing battle. You have makeup for a reason, you suppose.

You moan, loud and clear, suddenly unable to even care about the world around you, an audience or Chip or any of your coworkers rounding this truck and seeing you getting absolutely ruined by a man well over twice your age. None of it matters when you have Joel so close to you, so ready to please you and take care of you.

“G-god, you’re so deep,” you whimper out in a garbled haze as he keeps up his punishing thrusts, letting the head of his kiss the deepest parts of you.

Joel chuckles dryly, doubling down on his efforts, the both of you panting, close to reaching something extraordinary together. “Mmm,” he groans into your ear, still lapping at your neck periodically. “What d’you want with an old man like me anyway, huh?”

It’s a question you’ve asked yourself dozens of times, one you’ve never quite found the answer to, even after searching deep within yourself. Joel was brutal in the sheets but also sweet, and maybe that was a balance you’d been seeking without knowing it. The illusion he created of not caring was always overpowered by the look in his eyes that told you there was something more there, something you both wanted to build upon but knew you never could. So you took moments like this - dark and rushed and secretive in parking lots - and made the most of them while you could pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Instead of saying all of that, you just mumble out through your panting, “Y-you know why.”

“That’s right, this big cock, fuckin’ you like nobody else can,” Joel replies for you, and you nod languidly, your eyelids heavy, your mind concentrated now on the heat building deep in your belly, furling tighter with every thrust.

“R-right there, oh my god,” you breathe, pressing your hips into each thrust to pull him that much deeper, to make each crash of your bodies into one another that much harder.

Joel moans quietly, attempting to stifle the lusty little sound but it's music to your ears, listening to him fall apart for you. “Come for me, sweetheart, s-shit, daddy needs to hear you…”

“D-daddy!” you whine out loudly, knowing he loves to hear that name nearly pornographic off your lips in these heated moments. Your pants and noises break into little moans that crescendo as bursts of pleasure wash over you. Every muscle is taut and taking Joel’s harsh, relentless thrusts into you, nearly making you scream with how vibrantly every sensation seems to crash over you.

“Y-yeah, let ‘em hear it. Christ you sound so pretty f’me, baby. Milk daddy’s cock, f-fuck that’s it…” Joel’s string of praises reaches your ears in a distant fog before his hips stutter inside of you and he’s spilling himself deep and full. You clench around him one last time, shuddering at the sensation as your skin tingles pleasantly. You feel floaty, far gone as you try to regain your bearings, slumped and ass up on the cool material of the truck bed. Reality comes back slowly as Joel kisses down your back, planting one on your ass cheek before giving it a playful bite and kneeling next to you.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asks softly, and for some reason, despite feeling elated, tears prick at the back of your eyes. It’s too much, too emotional. You will them away in a second, not daring to let Joel see.

“Mhm,” you weakly utter, nodding. Joel’s hand strokes along the side of your head, and you peer up at him with a slack smile, finding that he’s giving you one back.

He comes down to your level, kissing your forehead. “Best yet, maybe,” he says playfully, but you aren’t sure you feel like laughing.

“Maybe,” you ponder, watching Joel’s face morph into a more serious expression. He curls his fingers around your ear, tracing shapes along your hairline, your neck, your shoulders as you stay just as you are for a long, quiet moment. He guides you to sit up, silently handing you your discarded clothing, helping you dress as the mess of him slips down your thighs. You have the passing thought that maybe he has napkins in his glove box, but then decide you’d rather have the reminder of him.

Joel sits next to you on the edge of the truck bed again, and interlocks his hand with yours. “I - I’ve got a hotel, right on campus. I could take y’home, but I’d like if you came back w’me for the night.”

His words give you pause, a tiny inhaled breath as you go to speak, snapping your lips closed and looking down at your lap for a beat. “Is that a good idea?” You ask for so many reasons, knowing that Joel is as acutely aware of all of them - the worst being that the longer you spend together, the harder it is to come back to reality.

“It ain’t a bad one,” he rasps, sultry and rough, and you crack a tiny smile. Always persuasive and charming when he needs to be.

“It’s not,” you admit, looking into his inquiring gaze.

“W-well?” he asks, nudging your side. “Jus’ one more night. I hardly get to see you, an’ you can go in the mornin’.”

You know how the night will go. You’ll both think you’re there for the sex - to sweat and say dirty things and pant all over again until you both come so hard that it boggles your mind. You’ll convince yourself that’s all it is, until you end up staying up late - talking, laughing, held in the other's arms. Intertwined together, bodies naked and comfortable with the other, because you’ve been here before.

You’ll both find yourself wanting to shy away from that fact that more is there - a real connection, two people with unlikely similarities, that just… get the other. You’ll both get lost in it, until the sun shines the next morning and you have to pretend that it doesn’t exist, that it was some figment of the power that the night holds over a person’s emotions, those dark twilight hours taking over your minds.

But you’ll both know that isn’t true, and there is nothing you can do about it.

“Okay,” you tell him, knowing the fate you’re subjecting yourself to - one that’s as wonderful as it is confusing. It hurts at times, but the spectacular things this man makes you feel outweighs it all. It’s worth it, that pain, to be able to find one another time and time again, and maybe even dream of more someday. “Let’s go.”

divider by @/saradika-graphics!

#julie's 5k celebration fic #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #x reader

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wolfiihoney · 7 months ago

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Nanami is the type of husband who… ᧔࿔᧓

︶︶⊹ ୨ I love writing about nanami ୧ ⊹︶︶

Part 2 of my “the type of husband who” series.

Unedited, srry loves <3

Nanami is the type of husband who refuses to text you and will call you just because you texted a simple "hi."

Nanami is the type of husband who makes sure to learn how to perfect your favorite coffee or tea, so when you wake up in the morning it’s already there waiting for you.

Namami is the type of husband who can communicate his feelings VERY well and will help you with yours.

Namami is the type of husband who always yearned for marriage so when he got it, it became somewhat of a badge of honor. (Gojo also got him a “The Best Husband Ever” shirt for a wedding gift because he knew Kento wanted to be a husband and Nanami wears it as a bedtime shirt😭).

Nanami is the type of husband who doesn’t show public affection, but he will hold your hand with the occasional little back rub.

Nanami is the type of husband who wants babies and a lot of them. He always knew deep down that he wanted little ones running around but pushed the thought away because of his job (that’s until he met you).

Nanami is the type of husband who loves nicknames and rarely calls you by your real name. He prefers "darling" and "love".

Nanami is the type of husband who likes to wake up early but hates waking you up early because he knows how much you love to sleep, so he’ll just lay in bed watching you sleep, rubbing your hair. (He’s a super, loving man).

Nanami is the type of husband who works way too hard and needs a vacation every so often. he always lets you pick the destination though. (he took you to Malaysia for the honeymoon of course).

Nanami is the type of husband who LOVES to cuddle and will randomly grab a book and your hand to go out and cuddle in the big hammock in your backyard (just imagine that seriously).

Nanami is the type of husband who loves giving you what you want and struggles to say no. Do you want those nasty chips that have too much red food dye? Go grab a bag baby. Want to spend all night watching princess movies and eating candy? He’ll go fetch the blankets.

Nanami is the type of husband who adores the colder seasons and will randomly come home with 4 bags of fall decor (he’s so wholesome).

Nanami is the type of husband who is oblivious to how adorable he is. he does the cutest things throughout the whole day and when you bring it to his attention he’s just like “Oh”.

Nanami is the type of husband who you will hear in the next room bragging about how “smart and amazing ” you are, You'll randomly hear him say “My wife made the most lovely bread today” to one of his co workers.

Nanami is the type of husband who gets shy when his students ask to see a picture of you because they can’t believe he actually got married. (he shows them a thousand pictures of you lol).

Nanami is the type of husband who loves back scratches. He doesn’t like to expect anything from you but he will expect back scratches.

Nanami is the type of husband who holds your legs up so he can vacuum under where your legs are (he’s way too strong).

Nanami is the type of husband who starts a little book club with just the two of you and he looks forward to it every other week.

Nanami is the type of husband who will secretly feel betrayed when you take a nice bath without him because that’s something he likes to do with you.

Nanami is the type of husband who loves to take care of you but also loves when you take care of him. (He likes being babied and you are the only person who will ever know that information)

Reblogs are definitely appreciated ♡♡♡

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tojigasm · 7 months ago

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Thinking very hard about Logan talking you through it

He knows you're close ultimately before you do. Seasoned by his many years of life, your tells are specific but not impossible to discern.

It's different each time he's come to realize. A different scent to you based on the mood you're in, how quickly he brings you there, your vulnerability, and how he speaks to you.

Logan's a greedy man. He knows that. And he knew as soon as the first time it'd happened that he shamelessly selfish in getting what he wanted.

You smell like cinnamon and vanilla and fuck if it wasn't better than all the drugs he'd ever tried combined.

A part of him still thinks he might be chasing your high.

He learned quickly how to manipulate you to get different responses. Testing out what you react to and which scent meant what.

When it's a euphoric intimacy, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla isn't so strong. It's diluted some, like a soft cloudy mist.

More emotionally frustrated intimacy smells far more tart, almost coppery. It often reminds him of blood in his mouth, soaking into his lungs and taste buds like tar.

When you're in a far more glum mood, you smell like rain on cement. He's starved for it.

You're so pretty beneath him. Eyes lidded and swollen lips parted loosely as he scissors his middle and forefinger against your velvet walls.

Logan bumps his palm against your clit and you let you a gasp – your hand jumping from the bedsheets to grip his forearm.

"Right there, huh?"

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you give him a nod at that, tucking your chin to your chest as he moves his other hand to press one of your thighs upwards to where your knee almost hits your breast.

He slips his hand from your cunt, moving to pull your other hand to hold your own thighs to your chest.

Wordlessly, he kneels and pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed before hooking his arms around your waist.

Without warning, he runs the flat of his tongue up the length of your cunt to your clit with a deep hum.

You know he can feel you shiver beneath him by the way he smiles against the sopping folds of your cunt.

"Feel good?" He chuckles softly, looking up at you from between your thighs.

You're reduced to broken whines and choked gasps, but you manage a hum in response, readjusting your grip on the backs of your thighs as Logan slips his tongue past your folds.

You smell of faint cinnamon.

"Lo," you sigh, throwing your arm over your eyes with a chipped whine.

Logan hums into your cunt, the sharp of his nose rocking back and forth against your clit.

He unwraps his arm from around your waist, reaching upwards to weave your hands together with a soft squeeze.

"Haa... ahh." Your voice grows watery as Logan brings you closer to the edge.

"M'close, Lo," you breathe, readjusting your hand on your thigh to keep it close to your chest.

"I know, sweetie." He circles his tongue around your bundle of nerves before blowing a stream of air onto your clit, "m'gonna get you there."

When he sucks on your clit again, you're cumming almost immediately with a shiver that simmers itself down your spine to your toes.

"There we go. It's a big one, huh."

A wave of vanilla woven with cinnamon washes over him and he nearly cums in his jeans.

You hear Logan before you've noticed he's moved from between your legs to stand above you, thumb circling your clit softly.

Whining, you turn your head into his forearm beside you.

"Doin' so good, sweetie," He coos, stroking his hand, still held by your own, down the side of your face before placing a kiss on your temple.

Your smell is much more prominent there, as though it travels through the roots of your hair and tickles itself through your soft skin.

Another shiver runs down your spine, causing the air on your arms and the nape of your neck to stand.

"Need you." You sob, voice muffled by the skin of his arm.

He settles down beside you on the bed, chin propped up on the flat of his right palm, squeezing your hand with his.

"You're okay."

The vanilla sinners throughout the room, and he swears he can see it in the dust that floats past the Amber hues of his room.

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader

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cc-kote · 2 years ago

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If you ever wanna make yourself Feel Things, listen to The Last Lost Continent and think about Obi-Wan and Cody 🙃

#i've been deep in the codywan hyperfixation lately #and i've spent a year learning this song on guitar so its been rattling around in my brain a lot #and then I was thinking abt that post where there was talk of an arc with cody finding obi wan on tatooine #and at first still being under the chips control and trying to kill him and then getting it removed and having to deal with the guilt #and him and obi wan being 'secret buddies'#justfuckingsayhusbandsbro #and the lyrics to that song just slapped me in the face #and gave me an idea for a cool little project heehoo #if you read all of this youre a trooper and also gimme song suggestions for your favorite characters/ships #i need more daydream material for when i go on walks w my headphones and listen to songs and think about my favorite guys in Situations

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arouravis · 6 days ago

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✳︎ 𝟶𝟷 𝙰𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙻𝙾𝙶𝚈 𝙾𝙱𝚂𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 : 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎!

✦ note: this is my first ever astrology blog post. I'm so excited to see where this goes!

𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙹𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛:

having this placement is truly a blessing. Usually, this placement (if not within a tighter orb) tends to develop later in life. Or tends to be something deep and unconscious that isn’t unlocked until you do deep introspection on the self.

The tendency to bounce back through whatever situation and try and see the brighter side in things really helps. Tendency to be “too” optimistic at times. With this placement, make sure to think before speaking regarding certain situations. Sometimes, people don’t want to see the light at the end of the tunnel immediately.

Naturally artistically inclined, very polite people to a fault. Tends to have a type of elegancy and refinement to their artwork. Or if not, their artwork gives the viewer deep introspection. Truly a great aspect to have in the natal chart!!

𝙰𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗:

GAGGELERS!! Very giggly, and have a face that replicates the Sun. Ex: Kamala Harris!

Very full face with a wonderful smile. Great friends to have, and I have a special place in my heart for these people. Genuinely, whenever they smile, I just get so soft like… the world is so cruel to my Aries moon babies PLEASE KEEP SMILING!!

Compared to an Aries Mars, these people tend to be more snappy/easily irritated and easier to handle regarding anger imo. Usually, the type of people to laugh off their frustration/anger with friends.

Ambiverts that lean more towards being introverted. The type to go completely non-verbal and then just giggle out of nowhere. Ex: Mort from Madagascar

They DONT play about their loved ones and will vouch for them no matter the situation. They can either be loud and wrong or loud and right!

It’s so sad to me because these people usually have so much warmth and light inside of them. But that light tends to be dim or completely put out due to mental issues/family behavior.

I LOVE ARIES MOONS!!

𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚜:

GET UP! Get up right now and get off of TikTok and whatever you use to doom scroll, and do what the hell you need to do. If it weren’t for my low attention span, I’d probably be Albert Einstein right about now. Procrastination WARRIORS!

Read, write, learn, and speak! These things truly help you out in the long run. For the mind, body, and spirit.

I will speak to you until you fall asleep, and I will stay up several hours later whilst everyone else is asleep. I believe people who have mutable moons (specifically speaking for a Gemini moon), have the love of staying up till the dawn of time. Sometimes, their minds are so busy from whatever they need to accomplish in the day, that their only time of solace and relaxation can be in the night.

It’ll be to the point where they want to stay up but yearn to fall asleep. But they wanna catch up on a book/music/social media that they potentially missed out on. I get it, and I see you, but please. Lay tf down, create a routine, and seize the day!

𝙻𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚜:

people pleasers to a fault. But once they’ve jumped over that hurdle, they can be a beast. They don’t play about their boundaries nor their mental health. Can tend to be selfish, tho.

Speaking of people-pleasing, these people love giving out compliments! I believe they have a telepathic chip in their brain that lets them notice people's emotions, and they wanna help brighten their day! There’s an integral pleasure they get from making people's day better.

The type of waiter/waitress to get HELLA tips/ a star performer within the arts or things regarding community.

𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚢 𝚂𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚄𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚜:

very, very, very sleepy people. They can sleep anywhere, anytime, in any weather. They could sleep on top of a cement truck in the middle of Times Square with EASE and poise. Very forgetful individuals, and they genuinely can’t help it. Their minds are always somewhere… else. When they’re not sleeping on I-97, they are UP, energetic, and ready to go.

If they don’t have any strong mercury placements/well-aspected planets in mercurial houses. They can come off as a ditz, dumb blonde- you get it. Even if they do, they may seem dumb, but are incredibly smart and will use that to their advantage.

They are the grandparent of the friend group, literally. If they’re not sleeping, they aren’t the type of people to not be enveloped in social media that much, so they tend to be out of the loop on major pop culture trends/slang. And you’ll have to keep them up to speed like you’re teaching your meemaw how to start the microwave. Very sleepy/dream-like faces and very soft smiles that can make you melt <3 Love them, tho!

𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚁𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜:

I'm sorry not to be rude, but you guys do not listen to a single thing anyone says lol. It's like you're in your own mini world at times, and it can be frustrating/upsetting when someone is trying to tell you something that you genuinely don't seem to care at all. You're aware of it, and you don't care to change, but if someone does it to you, you'll throw a fit, make it make sense :/

On a lighter note! Very, very funny people who have an adaptable sense of humor and are very easy conversationalists, which is something I really enjoy. These people, if having any other mercurial placements can talk for hours! Until they zone out completely and fall asleep, lmao.

✦ arouravis

#𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚜 #astrology #astrology observations #astro community #astrology blog #libra mars #leo rising #gemini #Virgo #aries #aries moon

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mywritersmind · 4 months ago

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UNCONVENTIONAL - LN4

summary : In which trying to make it home for thanksgiving fails and a cute british driver feels bad.

listen up : no warnings just cuteness! happy thanksgiving to all my americans <33 im thankful for YOU🫵 lando norris x american!driver!reader

word count : 1968

⋆༺

I groan out loud, dropping my phone onto the jet’s seat. “We’re stuck.” Lando sits up from his position across two seats, and frowns.

“Shit.” I look outside of the planes window, seeing the snow and fighting back tears. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not even december! Snow should not be here!” I wipe my eyes. I know Lando feels bad and I'm not making the situation worse by crying. But I’m having a hard time today because I'm supposed to be with my family.

Lando offered me and some other drivers a ride to Qatar for the next grand prix. Thanksgiving happened to fall the day before media day so I thought I could stop by my parents house and leave that night.

I never particularly loved Thanksgiving, but now that i’m traveling so much because of work, I've learned how much I truly can miss my loved ones.

Lando bites his lip as I sit back down and pull the blanket over me. The pilot informed us that we won’t be getting in the air for a few hours which means we have to go straight to the track instead of seeing my family.

I take a breath, “It’s okay. I appreciate you trying.” I hate crying in front of the guys, even if he is my friend. I hate it because it just plays into the whole emotional woman thing, and even though Lando is one of my best friends, right now I can’t help it.

Lando sits across from me, nudging his foot against mine, “How about we have thanksgiving here?” My head shoots in his direction as he puts on a small smile, “I don’t know a lot about it and I know I'm not your family… but I can try to be a substitute.”

I swallow, wiping my eyes again before I cross my my arms, “How would we even do that?”

I did not expect Lando to take my words as a competition. Still, thirty minutes later I'm sat with a full course meal spread out on the tiny table in between seats. There’s no huge turkey or array of pies, instead we have chicken wraps and fries. We have chips, popcorn, pesto pasta, orange chicken, a bagel, salad, and bread. A bottle of champagne sits next to me as Lando sits down.

His smile is wide as he looks down at the spread, “Good enough?”

“How did you…” I shake my head, laughing, “Yeah it’s good enough! Lando, this is really sweet.”

“It’s my first thanksgiving, I had to make it delicious, even if it is all airport food.” He shrugs and starts pulling things onto his plate. My legs are crossed on the comfortable seat and as I watch him pick his meal, I smile.

I bite into the chicken wrap that’s actually delicious. Lando taps on his phone before music starts playing over the speakers.

I smile at him as he chews, “So… what do Americans usually do on thanksgiving?”

I shrug and sip some champagne, “Eat, gossip, be thankful?”

“Okay! Let’s gossip then. Sounds easy enough.” Hes ridiculously committed to the bit and I adore him for it, “Did you know Franco’s signed with RB?” I start coughing, practically choking on my food.

“What!?” I scream.

Lando’s laughing now, “No I don’t actually know, I just couldn’t think of anything else.” I kick him under the table as he gasps.

“That’s evil! I got so excited.” I’m laughing with him now, our food picked apart and a mess in front of us. “What are you thankful for?”

He thinks for a moment, a curl falling into his face that makes my stomach flip a little. “Mmm… My family and friends.”

“That’s too generic. It’s thanksgiving- get deep, Norris.” He gives me a slight smirk before nodding.

“I’m thankful that the championship talk is over. I’m thankful for Chicken wraps.” He holds his up, proudly as I roll my eyes. “And I'm thankful for you.”

I’m a tad bit shocked, “For me?” I expect him to say something stupid or flirty, but he’s dead serious.

“You’re a really good person. I like being around you and for that, I'm grateful.” He raises his glass and I hit it with mine, “Now go on, brag about me.”

I roll my eyes, back to smiling humorously, “I’m thankful that I'm not alone right now.” His eyes don’t stray away from mine, “And I’m thankful for snow. Even if it’s pissing me off, it’s very pretty.”

We both look out the window in sync, the snow still falling. The runway is fully white, matching the trees and wing of the plane.

When I look back at Lando, he’s already looking at me. His face is relaxed, his freckles prominent and curls perfect. “Do you want to go?” I say suddenly as his expression turns confused.

“We can’t yet, we still have like two hours.”

A smile tugs at my lips, “I mean outside.”

He looks hesitant, “It’s freezing.”

I stand and grab my suitcase, unzipping it and pulling out my puffer jacket at record speed, “Did I mention every thanksgiving, something really random but really fun happens?” It’s true, for some reason this holiday brings out funny stories. “You’re not scared of some snow, are you Norris?” I step closer, narrowing my eyes.

He stands, grabbing his own jacket, “I’m just saying, don’t come complaining when you’re freezing and wet.”

“Me!?” I scoff, zipping up my jacket, “You’re the one who needs four layers for a sunny day.”

⋆༺

LANDO

I’m freezing my ass off but I would rather become a human icicle than tear my eyes away from her smile. She’s giggling and running into the snow, twirling around as snowflakes fall into her hair.

“Don’t slip, Y/n!” I yell after her as she turns around, the biggest smile on her face.

Her hand goes to wipe the hair that’s being blown in her face, snow falling around her, “Come catch me, Norris.”

I roll my eyes and hurry over to her as she laughs and dances around. I can’t help but laugh with her, it’s fucking contagious.

She sticks her tongue out, leaning her head back to catch snowflakes. Y/n is so perfectly caught in the haze of the snow and light peaking through the clouds that she looks like an angel.

She pokes my cheek and holds onto my jacket as if she’s about to fall. “Your nose is red.”

“You should get a job in detective work if the whole driving thing doesn’t work out…” She scoffs loudly and punches me in the arm.

Unfortunately, she’s stronger than she looks and because the ground is icy, we’re both falling seconds later.

She lands on top of me, laughing so hard that she’s crying, “Fuck! Are you okay!?”

“Like you care!” I sit up, holding her tightly still.

She laughs and plops down next to me, laying her head back and arms out. “Oh no-”

“Angel time, Norris!” She screams at me.

“I’m going to become snow!”

She doesn’t respond, just stretches her arms and legs out and waves them back and forth to make the snow part below her.

Something about her is my weakness and I honestly can’t complain when she looks so happy. I join her, my hair getting soaked and her laughs making me smile.

I make my angel in peace as snow floats down from the sky, landing on my face. I hear the rustle of her jacket as she turns her head to me, “Thank you.”

I smile softly, examining her face and the snowflakes that melt as soon as they touch her skin. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry that I'm not your family.”

She lets out a breath, “You’re my found family. That’s close enough.” her words make my heart beat faster, “Even if you are British and your first thanksgiving was on a grounded plane.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any other way. Although, next year we should try for a more friendsgiving approach. Maybe with the whole grid?” Her smile grows as she looks up at the sky.

“I'm very down for that.” As i’m mentally tracing her side profile in her mind, a voice and light comes very loud.

“You two!” I realize we’re in trouble instantly and stand up as fast as I can, slipping all over the place as the voice gets louder and the flashlight shines directly towards us.

Y/n is trying to get up with me but she’s laughing and slipping so it’s significantly harder. I grab her hand and we make a run for it, up the stairs and into the warm cabin. The door shuts behind us and I lean my head against the wall, sighing in relief of not being caught making snow angels.

Y/n is breathing heavily across from me, a smile permanent on her face as she looks at me. Her hair is wet and I'm sure mine is the same. I can’t feel my hands and I couldn’t care less.

“You look like a popsicle!” Y/n takes her hands and wraps them over mine, getting close enough that I can feel her breath on my skin.

I’d like to pretend that what happened next was a symptom of my cold state, but I’ve never been a good liar.

As soon as she looks up at me, her eyes big and glassy, I lean down and kiss her. Her lips are warm despite her cold hands gripping my own and as soon as she pulls back, I swear.

“Fuck. I’m sorry-” I didn’t even ask! God, I'm an asshole and now I'm completely stuck. Would I die if I ran outside and hid in the woods?

But she doesn’t look mad. She looks… pleased? Her hand slips out of my reach and moves to the side of my neck, “Don’t be.”

And then she kisses me. I think I blackout because I have no clue how long we’ve been kissing but I do know that I'm now completely defrosted and warm.

“You okay?” I whisper as Y/n pulls away.

She nods, “Thanks for kissing me.”

I laugh, “You’re very welcome. Thanks for kissing me back.”

She smiles again backs up a bit, fiddling with her rings, “So… was that just a thanksgiving thing or a way to warm up or…?”

I’m smiling big now, moving my hands under her jacket as she squirms because of the temperature, “I’ve been waiting for that to happen so if you limit me to once a year, i’ll be pretty sad.”

She nods, biting back a smile, “Good to know!” She slips away from me and pulls off her jacket, sitting in a seat and pulling her blanket around her shoulders.

I slowly walk so I’m in front of her again. She’s smiling at the floor, motioning me to come sit, “There’s one more thanksgiving tradition I do every year.”

She pulls out her ipad and scoots closer to me, I feel like i’m dreaming. “And that is…?”

She clears her throat, still avoiding eye contact.

“The Thanksgiving episode of Gossip Girl!” She starts rattling on about the backstories and starts the episode but i’m still stuck on her face and how her eyes won’t meet mine.

“Y/n…” I say it softly, bringing my hand to her chin and turning her face to look at me. She’s blushing. I don’t think I've ever seen her blush.

“Mhm?” She sounds like a mouse.

I brush her wet hair out of her face and press a soft kiss against her cheek, “I really like thanksgiving.” She just smiles and nestles into my side, my arm around her.

She lets me have some of the blanket and whispers, “I really do too.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris fluff

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peoniesnro · 14 days ago

Text

Perfect Partner | Prequel

All Jungkook wanted was to keep his ray of sunshine all to himself.

Paring- Jeon Jungkook × Reader

Genre- Yandere | Dark Romance

Warnings- Yandere (Obsessive love/ Jeon is delusional (Of course he is)/ Violence/ Blood/ Murder attempt/ Assualt attempts/ Clubbing/ Drugs/ Making out/ Dirty thoughts/ Grinding/ Betrayal/ And that bitchy friend) I hope I mentioned everyting.

Word count- 22K

a/n-Hey guys!! It’s finally done and out there. Phew… I feel so relieved and happy. First off, I’m so sorry for the delay. Life has been a lot lately—moving to a new state, starting at a new university, and basically rebuilding from scratch. It’s been tough, especially job hunting as a student, which has taken up a lot of my time. That was the main reason for this chapter to get late since I only wrote in the little time I got in between my job hunt (which hasn’t been very successful yet). That being said, after a lot of thought (and encouragement from my dear mutuals), I’ve decided to create a ko- fi page because a little support from you could help me a lot in this state. But of course, there’s no pressure at all. I’ll still continue to write my stories here free whenever I can because I love you all (A lot). But for anyone who wants to chip in, I’ve also prepared some special perks for Ko-fi supporters! You can check it out here. (Coffee corner) Thank you so much for all the love you’ve shown in this story and let’s meet with the second sequel. Love you all soooooo much.

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

This is the prequel, read the first parts here -

Perfect Partner - Prefect Partner (Sequel 1)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook sits on the far end of the lecture hall, playing with his pen. Click. A roll. Another click and then another roll. Over and over. Picking up speed. His leg starts to bob as well. He hates this place. He hates lots of things. The university, that stupid professor, and all the other students. But, of course, after his parents. He hates them the most.

He never wanted to study business to begin with. He was perfectly fine with his computer. He could’ve changed the world if he was just allowed to learn what he wanted. But no. Here he is. Sitting in a strategic management lecture despite his huge displeasure.

See, he has every reason to hate his parents. Dear parents who made him learn business because they wanted him to take after the family business. Parents who believed punishments and a whip were necessary to raise a boy. Parents who thought locking a child in a dark basement for days, terrified of unseen monsters, was the right way to discipline him. Parents who believed making him unloved was the way to make him manly.

Well, fuck them!

Jungkook glances at his watch. One more minute until the lecture starts.

59, 57, 58…

A click…

A roll…

The stupid professor probably won’t start the lecture on time, though. Jungkook knows it by experience.

45, 44, 43…

A click..

His leg bobs up and down uncontrollably.

He just wants the day to end. End it fast so he could haul inside his dorm room peacefully.

3, 2, 1……

And it’s time but as he expected, the old hag doesn’t start the lecture.

Jungkook groans in annoyance. When will people learn about punctuality? It’s exactly after 30 seconds that the old professor finally starts the lecture.

Finally!

Then just as he starts speaking, the lecture hall door barges open. Someone storms inside, panting hard. Another fool who doesn’t know how to work on time. Jungkook watches in mild annoyance as the newcomer bows deeply in apology. So deep that their forehead practically touches the floor. Then they turn around.

A girl.

Her eyes roam over the lecture hall, trying to find an empty spot. The entire hall is almost filled by that point. Except for the one next to Jungkook.

Oh fuck!

The last thing he wants is someone to sit next to him. Normally, people don’t. They prefer to stay away from the quiet kid who always keeps his face hidden in a hoodie. They preferred not to engage with the creepy kid who always wears black from head to toe. No problem, though. Jungkook is just fine.

Then here comes this new girl, rushing toward him. Jungkook doesn’t bother looking at her as she starts to whisper.

“Hey! You don’t mind if I take this seat, right?”

He doesn’t answer. The girl doesn’t wait for his answer, anyway. Just sits down. Shuffles around with her things while Jungkook just opens his laptop. He almost pays attention to the professor when her chirpy voice interrupts him again.

“I’m so sorry I’m probably invading your safe space. Shouldn’t have come so late to the lecture but my friends- wait, I’m rambling and you didn’t ask. You probably don’t want people yapping at you. First I made you sit with me and now I’m talking to you when you don’t even look at me- And I’m rambling again. I should shut up. I’m gonna shut up. I’m sorry.”

Then, silence.

Good. Thank fuck. Jungkook is so glad that the girl decided to shut her big mouth. He basks in the peaceful silence for a minute. But then here it comes. Fucking curiosity. Curiosity to know who’s the person that was forced to sit next to him but obviously wasn’t forced to talk to him. He turns his head slightly. To be met with a petite figure. Bright eyes wide and looking at the professor. Luscious lips where the bottom one is trapped between pearly teeth. Soft hair framing a pretty face.

A girl who casually talked with him.

A girl who is apparently not freaked out by him.

A pretty girl.

Fucking pretty.

The prettiest.

You!

The first encounters are always the funniest. Like this one. You turn your head abruptly toward him. As if you sensed his stares. Jungkook jerks and averts his head away from you.

“Oh, by the way my name is (___), how ‘bout you?”

He doesn’t answer. Yet again. You don’t mind. Just start yapping. Yet again.

………………………….

You enter your shared apartment with your boyfriend. Feeling exhausted after a long day of lectures and your part time job. Just to be met with a Jimin who casually sprawls across your couch. You wrinkle your nose in displeasure. Not that you hate Jimin or anything, but lately, all your friends- including Hoseok’s and yours- have started living rent-free in your apartment.

Jimin is a good, funny, and charming guy but in moments like these, all you want is to be left alone with your other half. Maybe just cuddling and watching a movie. Or even better- getting your brains fucked out.

Well, it seems that the thought would have to wait.

You walk toward Jimin on the couch. A sheet mask on his face and listening to Thank You, Next. He’s been obsessed with that song for so long now you’re becoming tired of hearing it. You nudge his legs with your knee, demanding him to make space for you. Jimin barely lifts his head before bending his legs and giving you space to sit down.

“Where’s Hobi?” You ask as you drop down onto the comfy leather.

“Around.” Jimin just nonchalantly waves his hand around making you annoyed.

“Yah!” You bellow when he raises his head up once again.

“Yah!,” He matches your voice. “How the fuck would I know where your boyfriend is?” Asks, bewildered. Well, that’s a good point.

“Why are you here again?” So, you change the topic. Jimin finally stops trying to relax while your annoying figure is next to him. Instead, he sits up and removes the face mask.

“To use your skincare products and, of course, your shower.” Says matter of factly. You knew the face mask was yours. See, they’re totally taking advantage of your place. You open your mouth to give yours and your boyfriend’s best friend a piece of your mind when the sudden sound of a door opening interrupts you. You and Jimin both turn your head behind you. Where the only bedroom in this little apartment is, and a little bit disoriented Hoseok appears.

Your lips stretch into a huge grin at the comforting presence of your boyfriend. He looks a little red in his face. It takes him a split second to return your grin.

Weird!

Or not. He was probably asleep and woke up startled by your yelling.

“Hey, baby!” You greet him warmly. Hold your hand out toward him. Silently asking him to join you on the couch. But before he could, Jimin interrupts.

“Is she still showering?” Gestures in your bedroom. “Yah! What is she? A damn fish?” Almost gets to his feet. You look at him in question when the answer appears through the door.

Daebi. Your best friend. Her hair wraps up in one of your towels.

“Oh hi baby, you’re early.” Hoseok finally returns your earlier greeting and takes your hand in his. Sits down next to you. You look at him surprised for a second before you avert your gaze to your best friend again.

“Really?” You raise one of your brows. This is what you mean when you say they’re abusing your house. Jimin just gots up and disappears inside your bedroom- where you know-he inevitably goes to shower as well. And the idiot put on that mask before he showers. And that’s such a waste.

“Oh, c’mon, your shower is just nice. Besides, you're not the one who pays the bills. It’s your sweet boyfriend.” She winks and waltzes toward your mini kitchen.

“Seriously? This is the time we should move out from this place and let’s make sure we find a place with the shittiest shower.” You state as you still keep your eyes over to where your best friend just walks away. Hoseok snorts.

“It’s okay baby.” He places a soft kiss on your cheek. You immediately relax at the sensation. He places another. Then another. All over your cheek and then trailing down toward your jaw. Neck. Throat. You swear you tried your best not to moan but an involuntary moan slips through your lips. Makes Hoseok grin against your skin. He gives you another kiss. This time open mouthed. You shudder. But then it hits you. He’s trying to distract you from getting mad at your friends. You shove him away.

“It’s not okay.” You shake your head in disagreement. Hoseok sighs. Rolls his eyes.

“It’s just a shower (___).”

“I know. It’s not about the shower though. It’s about me wanting to have some alone time with you and-” Your turn to face him. It’s not that you're mad at your friends for real. You smirk. “- maybe I’m just horny….. and-”

He stops your words by attacking his lips to yours. Kisses you deep. Tongue swapping across your bottom lip, inviting you for that familiar heated dance. And you forget about your friends and the shower. Completely. Everything disappears. Just Hoseok. And you. Only living creatures. So, you give him what he’s asking for. Access to the inside of your mouth. He wastes no time in thrusting his tongue forward. Tangling with yours. Creating a hot mess of saliva. Only pulls away when your head starts to spin. “Yeah?” Questions when he does.

“Yeah.” You whisper, breathlessly. So Daebi won’t hear you. A devilish smirk appears on your boyfriend’s face.

“Then we should do something about it and let’s just ask Jimin to walk out of the shower with his eyes closed.” He whispers back. Kisses your neck once again. This time with his hot tongue grazing over your sensitive skin.

“Hobi..” You gasp softly. And that’s all it takes for your boyfriend’s restrictions to snap. He stands up at light speed. Almost picks you up from the couch just as your phone dings. You mindlessly search inside your pocket for the annoying device while keeping your eyes on Hoseok. He waits patiently until you check who’s texted you. You reluctantly turn your gaze toward your phone. Unlocking it quickly. Only to find a simple ‘Hi’ from an unknown number. “Who’s that? Anything important?” Hoseok asks you as you lock your phone again and throws it away.

“Nope. I don’t know who that is. Don’t care either. C’mon, lover boy, fuck me, hm?” You bat your eyelashes at Hoseok. He curses slowly before really picking you up from the couch this time. You squeak as he starts to walk toward your bedroom. Just as Daebi comes out of the kitchen with a horrified expression on her face. She’s allergic to PDA. So, you understand that expression. You give her a quick wave before Hoseok kicks the bedroom door closed.

……………………..

You’re early today. It feels nice to be early to your lecture and not having to sweat your ass down while running across the university. You stand in front of the almost empty lecture hall. Assessing your seating options. Since you’re early, you can choose to sit wherever you want. But then, your eyes slowly wander over to the back. Stopping at the figure hunched over there. All in black. Face covered in the hoodie.

You didn’t see his face last time either. Only a set of pink lips. And a part of his cheek while he was busy staring at you. But that was all. He never bothered to remove his hoodie. It almost felt like he was deliberately trying to hide his face from you. Which was fine. It’s his choice anyway. Yet by the parts you saw, you guess the boy must have a goldy face. Such a shame he keeps it hidden.

Lost in your own thoughts, you slowly start to walk toward the back of the lecture hall. You had no option but to sit next to him the last time. And you just know he didn’t like your company that much. Still you decide to approach him. You just feel bad. True, you’ve never even seen him before. But you guess that’s how his entire college life must have been. Alone in the back of the class. Depressing. You can’t help but feel sad. And your altruistic self believes you can be of help.

He turns his head slightly toward you when you finally approach him. Still not enough to see anything besides his pink lips.

“Hi!” You chirp. “Mind if I?” You gesture at the empty seat, expecting him to stay silent. To ignore you completely like the last time. Then, to your surprise, he nods. Just once. But nonetheless he does. You grin widely to yourself as you sit. “Thank you.” Mumble. Get comfortable and start fumbling with your laptop and notes. “How have you been?” Question him knowing very well he won’t answer. And your expectations come true.

See now, you don’t wish to be annoying to people. No. You can pick up a sign when it’s needed. But for some reason, you think this guy- who’s in black- maybe needs some company. Even though he doesn’t engage in any conversation with you. That’s the exact reason why you keep asking him a question here or there throughout your lecture. And he nods or shakes his head for some of them. The only question that he answers verbally is when you ask what year he’s in. To your surprise, he’s in his final year.

Well, lucky guy. He’d be out of this hell hole pretty soon.

Now it’s only fifteen more minutes left until the lecture ends and you’re asking him about his favourite lecturer under your breath when you get distracted by your professor.

“Okay, class, it’s time to discuss your upcoming assignment.” He clasps his hands and you immediately pay your full attention to him. You might not pay attention to the lectures but the assignments are important. “As you know the upcoming report is a paired work,” He starts and you sigh heavily. You hate group work. “-which will not be that difficult since we’ve been talking about the topic a lot. And I hope you all will do a great job. Then about assigning you partners, I decided that I’ll not be assigning you with random people since it makes it awkward and uncomfortable. I believe you’ll be more effective working with someone who you’re already comfortable with. So, it’s up to you to decide who your partner will be. You have two weeks until the due date.”

Oh fuck!

You have no one you’re familiar with in this class. It’s almost mechanical how you snap your head to your left. Toward the guy in black.

“Wanna partner up?” You blurt out before you can process. “Uh- I mean only if you want to of course. Do you have anyone here you want to partner up with or-”

“You.” He snaps, making you stop your rambling abruptly.

“Huh?”

“L-let’s p-partner up. You’re good.” He stutters out an explanation. You chuckle softly, finding him to be so adorable.

“Good. Thank you. I mean I don’t know many people and oh,” You perk up remembering your need to make sure he doesn’t get high hopes about good grades while working with you. You’re just bad at this. “But I want you to know that I’m very bad at this. Business is really not my thing. Never wanted to pursue this degree but my mom made me do it. So, I hope-”

“You have a shitty family too?”

You close your mouth immediately.

What, now?

That’s the most he’s said so far, and he’s asking if your family is shitty. A laugh slips through your lips.

“Wh-what? Of course, no-” You even start to shake your head. Because that’s not true. Your family is the best. “Not at all. They’re good. Just didn’t want me to pursue music since they believe it won’t be easy to make a stable future with that. That’s all. They're not bad.” You let him know when he just nods again and looks straight ahead. “Um- but why did you ask that?” You ask anyway, despite his clear signs of not wanting to talk anymore. He shrugs.

“Because I have a shitty family.” States meekly. Voice almost inaudible that you have to lean in to catch it. And you feel your heart squeezing. That’s awful. See, you knew he was in a bad situation.

“I’m so sorry.” You mutter sadly. “You didn’t want to study business?” You ask again, hoping that his family situation is just about not letting him pursue his dream. He shakes his head. Nothing more. You wait a minute until he says something else but when he doesn’t, you decide to ask something else. “What did you want to learn then?”

“I.T”

You can feel the melancholy in his voice.

This is depressing.

“I’m really sorry.” You mutter again.

………………………………

Jungkook can’t believe it. He really fucking can’t believe that someone- who’s a real person and a girl at that- wanted to sit next to him. To talk to him and then to partner up with him. It feels weird to be honest. Since he has never had such an experience in his life. Sure, he’s done group work but it was always with someone who was assigned to him. You, however, willingly chose to partner up with him.

And you’re real. Very real. Not some fragment of his imagination. Not a scenario he made up in his head while waiting for sleep to reach him. Most importantly, you’re not someone who he met online either. If you were, then he wouldn’t be so surprised about this situation. Because he is a star when it comes to talking with strangers online. He actually has a couple of online girlfriends, to be precise. He’s this charming guy who can swoon women via texts. Or calls for that matter. But when it comes to reality, he’d just shy away. Knowing very well that no one would want to do anything with him. He’s the quiet kid in black clothes. Then here you are. Mindlessly and animatedly talking about the upcoming assignment.

The two of you are walking back from the lecture. And he can see the exit. You haven’t stopped talking ever since you left the lecture hall. You’re telling him the way you could do this. Which part and who should do it. While you keep talking you both step out into the cold autumn air.

“Or, we can do it the other way, you know. No pressure at all.” You look at him hopefully, coming to a halt at the entrance. Jungkook stops with you. Takes a minute.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it for both of us.” He mumbles slowly. But he knows that you heard it judging by the way your jaw dropped. He should’ve let you know before you start fussing over the details and talk a river. But he likes the way your luscious lips move when you talk. So, he waits until you’re out. You stay that way for a minute before prettily giggling.

Wow, he likes the sound of it.

“Oh, you’re joking right? I didn’t take you to be the type to just casu-”

“I’m not,” Jungkook interrupts you. Your giggle trails off. “I’ll do it. You don’t have to worry.” He reassures you again since you don’t believe him. You take more than a minute this time. Try to duck a little to get a look at his face in vain. He turns his face away from you. He doesn’t want you to see him. You’re so nice to him and actually enjoy his presence. But what if you change your mind after seeing his face? Not that Jungkook has any problem with how he looks. He thinks he looks quite alright. Yet he’s still a weird kid. He knows he must look pale since he hasn’t gone under the sun for forever lately. And his eyes must look lonely and lifeless. That would surely scare you away. You give up trying to look at him.

“Wh-what? But why?” Ask instead. Well, because Jungkook wants to do something nice for you. The only girl who ever approached him in real life. It simply makes him happy to do something for you. To see you happy. He doesn’t tell you that, however. He just shrugs.

“Because I can.” Simply says when you start shaking your head.

“No-no. That’s not right. I can’t let you do a whole twenty page long report on both of our behalf. Let’s just split the work evenly and-”

“I have lots of spare time.”

“How? I thought you’re in your final year? How can you have so much free time?”

“I just do.” Jungkook grumbles, starting to get annoyed at how you don’t want his help. He just wants to help you. Especially since he knows how bad you’re at this. Academically. Not just from your own words but of course from his research. He couldn’t help but look for you after the first day. Was just curious. It’s really a piece of cake for him to log into the university data. Then access all the details of students. Not that he’s done it before. Never felt a need to do so. You’re the first ever need. And yes, he found a lot about you. Including your personal details. Your permanent address, your current address, your phone number, and lastly your academic records. You were apparently not exaggerating when you told him that you’re bad at this. Barely into the start of your second year and your grades are already suffering. So, Jungkook can help you a little with it and he doesn’t like the way you’re being stubborn.

But before he can say anything you sigh. To his great pleasure. “Okay, if you insist but I feel bad, you should ask me if you need anything, okay?” You take a step toward him. Come so close to him that he feels your body warmth. And he feels a skip in his heart beat. Even his breath hitch. This is new. He feels a shudder rippling through him. Maybe it’s because you’re a girl. Not that he doesn’t know anything. Of course, not. He can make a girl cum in their pants if he has a phone and an internet connection. This is new, though. But he knows that it’s not the novelty that makes his breathing ragged and heart beats a mile a minute. He has been in close proximity to other women but has never felt this way. “Okay?” You ask again, making him snap out of his reverie.

He just nods. You smile.

Pretty!

So fucking pretty.

Pretty that he’s forgetting to breathe.

Pretty that it hurts.

He wants to just touch you. Just your cheek. Then trail down toward those luscious lips of yours. Then down your throat. Down, down, and down.

Jungkook can’t help but wander his gaze down where his mind is taking him. Drinking up your appearance. Your silky skin. And the swell of your breasts. His eyes stop there. Even through the layers of clothing, your breasts look so plump. So soft.

What if he just squeezes them in his large hand? What if-

“Hey!” The sudden voice makes him slightly jump on his spot. You turn around to meet the person who owns that voice at the same time he looks over you. A young man with a bright smile reaches you. Casually. Jungkook turns his gaze back to you right at the time to catch you reciprocating the newcomer's smile.

It looks like you know each other.

“Hey, baby!” Then you mutter softly.

Of fucking course you know each other.

The man pecks your lips slowly. And Jungkook feels his skin prickles. He goes rigid completely. Clenching his jaw so tight even without him knowing it. A burn in his chest makes it hard for him to breathe.

“Who’s this?” The man asks from you, making you avert your eyes back to Jungkook.

“Oh, this is my….” You start enthusiastically only to trail off. Of course, you still don’t know his name. And how it hurts. Ridiculous. Jungkook turns around without a word. Starts to walk away when you call after him.

“Hey wait! We just, hey….”

But he doesn’t turn around.

…………………………..

Jungkook stands a few feet away from the friend group in the courtyard. He’s trying to stay clear from anyone's sight. Not that anyone would pay him any mind. Still, he doesn’t want you to notice him. No. That’d disrupt his peaceful view. It’s liberating to just look at you.

The girl who wanted to talk with him by herself.

The girl who’s so pretty.

Now, Jungkook doesn’t know why he’s being this way. He found you to be breathtakingly beautiful the first day you sat next to him. You were damn interesting. Intriguing. With your endless chatter.

And then when you had chosen to sit next to him for a second time, he felt something so deep inside him. He no longer hated sitting in a class where some old professor mindlessly talked about things that never reached his brain. He really liked the feeling of having you next to him. Just sitting next to him. Walking next to him. Standing next to him. It was amazing. The feeling. The way his heart was racing. The way he was feeling hot. It was all so nice. He no longer hated this place as well. Just two days with you, he was already feeling positive.

He had never thought he’d ever get to feel such a feeling. A feeling that is not miserable. But instead hopeful. You’re like a ray of sunshine that suddenly peeked at him through the years of dark clouds that shrouded his entire world.

Then, he felt so disappointed in the end.

You didn’t even know his name. It had hurt to think you weren’t even interested in knowing his name. Jungkook really doesn't know why you do what you do. Being all nice to him. Wanting to be around him. Maybe, you’re just a kind person who’s nice to everyone. But something inside him says that’s not the case. That can’t be right, can it? No, it isn’t. You wanted to approach him. That should mean something. Right?

Of course, it means something.

Besides, how well you and he were getting along with each other, even though it was just two days. You have felt so familiar to him. As if he has known you for years. And you share so many similarities. He has found so many interests that are common for you two. Then there is your family situation. You might not admit that you have a shitty family but that’s the truth. You and he are the same. What a match. Isn’t this fate?

People don’t just be nice to other people. You were clearly interested in him. In some kind of way. Even though you obviously have a boyfriend. At that moment Jungkook had felt such a twist in his gut which he later figured out as jealousy. He was so jealous of the man who had approached you that way and got to touch you oh, so freely. It was not fair. It was maddening.

He swears that he had wanted to just forget it and continue with his life like he always did. Just go back to his miserable life clouded by gloomy darkness. But it didn’t work. He was so desperate for that ray of sunshine after that first moment. It was impossible to go back to the darkness just after he felt how good it is to be in the light. No. He wasn’t ready to just let go. So, he had no other options but to seek you in any way he could find.

Your every social media account? Checked. He is following you on every platform he can.

Your address? Checked. He’s been following you back home for a week now.

Your every class? Checked. He knows your daily schedule better than you do.

He knows where you’d be at what time. He knows where you work part time and in which coffee shop you’d pay a visit every day. Knows what is your favourite order- and he liked it the first time he tried. No wonder you’re ordering the same thing again and again. He knows in which corner you’d sit at the library. He knows how much time you waste under the disguise of studying but spending doing nothing but daydreaming. He knows many things. And he’d continue to know more and more. Every little thing about you. Until there’s nothing more to know. Until you’re a part of him.

And while he’s at it. He has felt the same warmth. Even though you are not just engaging in an active conversation with him, he felt the same comforting feeling by just looking at you talking with other people. Even though you aren’t laughing and smiling with him, he certainly does find solace in looking at your smile through your pictures. Pictures you’ve posted in your social media or the pictures he has captured at the most random times.

Oh, how beautiful you look.

And despite all, despite the fact that you have no single idea about you being on his watch for over a week now, he feels so close. So close to you. Closer than he’s even been to anyone. As if you’ve lived with him.

He loves that. Loves how content he feels even when he’s looking at you from afar. And of course, amidst all these, he’s kind of forgotten that you have a boyfriend. Who can blame him, after all. Besides, as now he’s watching you for probably the hundredth time, Jungkook thinks he doesn’t give a double fuck about your boyfriend either. Why should he? For now, he is more than satisfied with looking at you. When he wants more than that, he’d get more than that. Boyfriend or not. You deserve far better than that anyway. You deserve someone who’s obsessed with you. Someone who could treat you like the goddess you are. Like Jeon Jungkook himself.

Until his moment comes, however, he will just love you from afar.

……………………………….

You felt awful after the encounter with the guy in all black who’s now your assignment partner. It feels like such a bitchy thing to do, especially after he offered to do the report all by himself. That’s a huge favor to you since you’re barely hanging there. And yet, you didn’t even know his name.

You wanted to apologize profusely during your next lecture. And you waited expectantly for him to arrive. He didn’t. Which makes your guilt intensified ten fold. Then you waited until your next lecture. He didn’t attend it again.

What if he’s really mad at you? What if you’ve hurt him?

True that you don’t know him very well but hurting someone has not been your intention at all. And there’s the fact that he already has a problematic family. It must be really hard.

Hence, your long face as you enter the university cafeteria after your lecture. Your mind goes around so many different things. You don’t even have a way to contact him. You don’t even know what you should do at this rate. There’s a pending assignment and if he’s decided not to do it anymore, then you need to come up with something. You can’t really afford to fail a subject.

You sigh heavily as you wait in the line to place your order. Eyes just wandering around with no purpose. That’s when your eyes suddenly land on someone who’s hunched over their laptop in a corner booth.

Wait!

That someone is draped in all black. That someone has their face covered from a hoodie.

A wide grin spreads across your face as you unmistakably recognize the person. That’s definitely him. Your assignment partner. You jump into action immediately. Practically sprint toward him. Bumping into a girl in your haste. You pay no attention to her as you make a beeline to the booth where he’s sitting all alone.

“Hey!” You shout just as you reach the booth. Don’t wait for any permission as you slide into the booth right across from him. Someone else would’ve jerked a little at the unexpected barge in but not this guy. He doesn’t even raise his head to look up at you. Just keep staring at his laptop.

Oh okay, that’s fine.

“Hey, why didn’t you come to class today?” You ask despite his lack of interaction. And don’t receive an answer in return. You sigh again. Chew on your bottom lip. “Listen, I’m so sorry about what happened the other day. That was such a low thing to do. You even offered to do the report for me and-” You yet again in vain try to take a look at his face when he lower his head even more. “- I’m really sorry.” So, you just extend your sincere apology. He still doesn’t answer. “But in my defense, I asked your name on the first day, it was you who didn’t answer me.” You add stupidly thinking it’d ease him up. Wrong. He’s still silent.

“Okay, okay, let’s just do this again.” You hold your hand toward him. “I’m (__). It’s nice to meet you Mr?” He doesn’t take your hand in his. Nor does he answer your question. You keep your hand that way for a long awkward second before you let it fall down. “Okay.” You mumble and nod just after another minute. “That’s fine. I get why you’re mad at me and that’s fair. I was a bitch and if you don’t want to do the report all by yourself anymore, I’m fine with it. Just tell me what part I should do so-”

He cuts you off abruptly by turning his laptop toward you all of a sudden.

“Huh?” You dumbly stare at him. Then at the laptop screen. “Wh-what’s this?” Question tentatively.

“Report.” Finally, he answers. You turn your attention back to him, not understanding what he’s talking about. “I already finished it.” So, he clarifies.

What now?

You hastily start to read the document on the device. Scroll down. Eyes roaming over the words, numbers, statistics, and images. Holy hell, he indeed has finished the report. All twenty pages are done. Your eyes go wide in pure disbelief. Even suck in a shaky breath.

“Wow…” You whisper even without you knowing you said that audibly. “Wow..” This time, you say it more clearly. Look back at the guy in front of you. Still staring down and his face hidden. “Fucking wow, Mr. No name. How did you even? I mean.. It’s only been two weeks and you already finished this?” You shake your head.

“Told you, I have a lot of spare time.” He mumbles softly, making you smile. You find him intriguing. And kind of adorable. “I- uh- will send it to you so you can proofread it. Let me know if any changes are needed.” He adds.

“I don’t think this will need any changes. You’re brilliant. Oh god thank you so much,” You chirp happily. “But still send it to me anyway and I’ll go through it.” You pull a tissue paper toward you. Fish out for a pen in your bag. Let out a victorious noise when you find one. “This is my email.” You explain to him as you write it down on the tissue. Shoves it across the table to him. “Thank you again, Mr. No name. You’re the best.” You exclaim yet again. Give him his laptop back when your alarm suddenly goes off.

“Oh shit.” You take the device from your pocket and turn off the alarm. “I have another class.” Explain to your half- dead companion even when he doesn’t give a fuck. You get to your feet hastily. Looks like you’ll have to forget about your lunch. Almost turn around to leave before you eye the guy who’s nice enough to save your ass at least in one subject.

You hesitate for a bit. Pondering on your thoughts. Then say fuck it as you hurriedly round the table.

“Thank you so much!” You state with the bottom of your heart. Lean down to throw your arms around his neck. A fleeting sideways hug to show your gratitude. He’s so nice and you have no other way to show how thankful you are.

“Let me know if you need anything in the future. I’m quite happy to return the favor.”

You shout that out as you already start to walk away.

…………………

Jungkook stupidly stares at the tissue paper on the table. Your email address scribbled on it. His heart pounds erratically in his throat. His ears roar. Ridiculous, since it was just a simple hug. But he can’t help it. The way you melted into him. The way your breath momentarily hit his ear when you pulled away. The way your soft breasts just slightly pressed against his shoulder.

Fuck!

What would he do to have it again?

To have more. To have you in his hands. Your body pressed against his. Your soft breasts against his hard chest. To touch you all over. Kiss every inch of your skin. Knead your round ass cheeks. To smell you. And then of course, to have you naked and whimpering beneath him. His hard cock ramming inside you while you cry out his name.

A thin layer of sweat forms on his skin. All the blood in his body rushing downward. How embarrassing this is that he’s getting a hard-on from a simple hug. He can’t help it. He absolutely can’t.

Jungkook closes his eyes for a minute to relive the brief moment where he felt you against him. An involuntary groan leaves his throat at the memory. He’d have to rush home now. There’s an aching problem between his legs to take care of. Yet soon as he opens his eyes again, he’s met with the tissue paper on the table.

Weird.

He finds you to be really weird. Why didn’t you text him your email address? Isn’t that the new normal? Or are you a hopeless romantic who loves to do such funny things? A soft smile graces his lips.

Jungkook picks up the tissue from the table.

Do you pity him?

Or do you just like him, like how he thought?

You approached him after all. Yet again. Like you always do. It makes Jungkook’s heart flutter to think that you’ve been looking for him. Looking for a chance to apologize sincerely.

Oh, how complicated you are. Like an unsolvable puzzle. And Jungkook loves solving them.

He pockets the tissue before picking up his phone. Still finding it weird that you decided to write it down like that. You could’ve just texted him. He unlocks the phone and opens a text thread where the last message was from more than two weeks ago.

Pretty

You’re the one who sent the last message.

Pretty

Thursday, 15 March, 2018

Oh, no. I hate Choco Pie. Can’t stomach it. (9. 00 a.m.)

Jungkook hasn’t replied to you because it was just an hour before your lecture. Despite your enthusiasm to talk with him over the texts Jungkook has been pretty nervous that you won’t choose to sit next to him. Then you did. Solidifying his suspicions that you might like him. But then the day didn’t end well and he didn’t want to text you back. You didn’t either. Not even an apology.

You’re weird.

First, you never asked his name even over texts.

Second, you could’ve just text an apology but you sought him out instead. You decided to be a little romantic and write down your email on a darn tissue paper. Another smile graces over Jungkook’s lips at the prospect. Maybe he was right. Maybe you like him. It doesn’t matter that you have a boyfriend. Maybe you’re not in love with him. Maybe it’s not only him who’s been feeling so connected to you.

Jungkook shoves his phone inside his pocket as well, deciding not to ponder on the thought anymore. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact that you actually came. Made amends. So, he turns off his laptop. Gathers his belongings to leave the cafeteria. Is pushing everything inside his bag when a loud chirpy voice catches his attention and makes him look in the direction. The way that someone happily bellowed really matches the way you do it. Hence his sudden interest. Yet he’s met with a stranger. A girl who just enters the cafeteria. A boy follows her. Jungkook almost looks away in disinterest before his mind registers the boy who entered. He does a quick double take.

And he wasn’t wrong.

There he is. Your so-called boyfriend.

Jung Hoseok!

Of course, Jungkook knows everything about the said man from A to Z. Of course, he dug deeper into the said man’s life since the day he saw him. All it took was a simple stalk over your Instagram to find the needed person. Then it was just as easy as eating a piece of cake for Jungkook. Maybe, he recognizes the girl too. She was in your photos. She didn’t pique his interest, however. Only your boyfriend did.

Oh, how Jungkook hates Jung Hoseok. Just because Hoseok exists. Because he exists and found you before Jungkook did.

Not that Jungkook can do anything about it though. So, he proceeds to finish packing up his things. Swings his backpack over his shoulder. Takes a step forward just to stop dead on the track. Eyes wide at what he sees.

The girl pouts. Whines about something he quite can’t hear. Then she turns around. Goes to her tippy-toes just to connect her mouth with the man behind her. The man who is unmistakably Jung Hoseok. The man who is definitely your boyfriend.

Jungkook lets out a soft, inaudible gasp.

Well, isn’t this so fucked up?

Hoseok doesn’t shove the girl away immediately. He revels in the kiss for a moment before suddenly pulling away as if the girl burnt him. His eyes scan the cafeteria furiously afterwards. Panicked. His eyes roam past Jungkook without recognizing.

Good!

Jungkook doesn’t know what his initial thoughts about the situation were. But now he is quite sure. Your dear boyfriend is cheating on you. And probably with someone who’s close to you, if she’s the girl Jungkook saw on your profile.

Jung Hoseok is cheating on you! The fucking bastard is cheating on a woman like you!

See, he knew you deserve much better.

………………………………

“So…” Daebi drags out while twisting the mascara cap closed. You watch her through the bathroom mirror, applying lip balm to your lips which are drier than Sahara.

“So what?” You question when she doesn’t complete whatever she was about to say and gets distracted with checking her blemishes instead. You get her attention back to you, successfully.

“So… you mean this weird guy in a hoodie from your class completed a whole damn report for you and you don’t even know his name yet?” Daebi finally asks. You shrug.

“Yep. And it isn’t my fault, you know. He just refuses to say his name. I asked him a million times.”

Daebi chuckles. “And you think it’s safe to hang out with someone who refuses to reveal their identity? I mean you haven’t even seen his face?” Turns around and leans against the counter. You scrunch up your face in displeasure. Why does everyone think that a quiet kid is always a danger?

“Don’t be like that Daebi. He’s just shy. Other than that he’s a really nice guy. I mean have you ever met someone who’s willing to do a group assignment all on their own happily. And he doesn’t even want anything in return.” You finish up applying lip balm and place it inside your bag.

“That’s exactly why you should be careful. People don’t do stuff like that, not anymore at least. There’s always a hidden motivation. Who knows? Maybe he likes you.” Daebi casually inspects her perfectly manicured nails as she states that. A smug smile on her lips. You take a minute at that. Eyes wide. A minute of uncertainty where you consider what she just said.

Could it be?

Of course not. Your stupid best friend is messing with you.

“Yah!” You nudge her away with your hip. Makes her giggle. “He literally saw me with Hoseok the other day. He’s just a nice guy.” You turn around as you say. Place your bag and phone on the counter top. Leave them behind knowing Daebi will stay for you.Walk toward one of the stalls.

“That doesn’t matter dude. He still can be deeply, madly in love with you.” Your best friend shouts after you as you close the bathroom stall’s door behind you, making you reopen it and flip her off.

………………………

You eye your classmate suspiciously as you sit in your designated spots in the familiar lecture hall. Not that you can see much. His face is mostly covered in his infamous hoodie. By now, you’ve grown mostly comfortable around him. After all, you’ve attended more than five lectures together. He’s still not one of your best friends but you genuinely like him. You may not stay in touch out of this class room but when you’re inside, he’s the best company you could ever wish for. You haven’t asked for his number mainly because you thought he wouldn't like to share it with you. He doesn’t even want to tell you his name. And you find it ridiculous how you two sit next to each other for every lecture but how you still haven’t seen his face.

You’ve grown accustomed to that fact, however.

You and he have been good to each other. Just two normal people who share a class together.

Yet today, something feels off. Not that he’s done anything to make you uneasy. Quite the opposite to tell the truth. He’s done nothing at all. You know it’s your stupid best friend's words that are plaguing your mind. You can’t help but let your head get ahead of yourself. Let your mind wander.

What if what she said was true?

He’s been so nice to you. Who would volunteer to complete a whole ass group assignment by themselves?

Gosh, you’re being ridiculous now. Not everyone is the same. It doesn’t mean anything just because he did something nice for you. Besides, if he’s really interested he’d at least ask for your number, wouldn’t he? You shouldn’t let Daebi’s delusional ideas get to you. You shake your head to get rid of the silly thoughts. Turn your head to pay attention to the lecture. Which apparently is a good idea but acted upon a little late. Just as you turn your head, you’re met with your professor’s direct gaze landed up on you. Your eyes go slightly wide at the sudden attention.

“Anything interesting on your friend’s face Miss (___)?” He questions while crossing his arms across his chest.

Oh!

You instantly go red at the professor's words. Cheeks burning.

Embarrassing. This is oh so fucking embarrassing. And it turns worse when the whole class turns around to look at you. You would very much be glad if the floor could split up and swallow you whole. Unfortunately, that isn’t an option. Hence, your little bow and the muttered apology.

“I’m sorry professor.” You’re not entirely sure that he heard it. He nods nonetheless.

“Pay attention child.”

You’re so relieved when he turns around to continue with the lecture with that. Yet the residue of your embarrassment remains. Your face is still burning, making you press your cold hands across it. Trying to soothe the flaming skin. It’s really hot here. But at least it won’t get any worse-

“You were staring at me?”

Of course, it can get much worse. You know your friend isn’t teasing you. He is not the type to tease. Still it feels like he is taunting. Making fun of you. You turn your gaze down toward your notebook. Wishing you had a hoodie to cover up your face as well.

“Uh- it’s- it’s not like that, you know. I- I wasn’t staring-”

“I like that you were staring.”

You snap your head toward him so fast that you’re certain you just broke your neck. Mouth agape and eyes wide in surprise.

“What?”

“I would love it if you were looking at me.”

You close your mouth shut. Not knowing what to say. Besides everything, who would admit to such a thing? It's one thing to secretly like something like that but admitting it?

He’s weird.

“W-why?”

“Because, I like it.”

He states nonchalantly. Stark opposite to the way someone should say it.

Wasn't he shy? He was so shy. He is not the kind of person to admit things like that. And this is so sudden. Something doesn’t feel right. Yet you don’t question it. Instead, you just pay your attention back to the lecture silently. Forcing yourself to believe that there is nothing wrong. It’s just your best friend’s words making you think something is up.

Who knows? Maybe he likes you?

Does he like you?

Is that it?

If that’s the case you might have to make the air clear between you two before things get complicated. You love your boyfriend and you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Yet you can’t do that when you’re not certain about his feelings.

Maybe you should just wait. Wait and see.

……………………

You nuzzle your nose against your boyfriend’s chest. Whining and complaining. Hoseok chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through his chest in a soothing way.

“Oh gosh! Will you two stop acting like clingy cats? You know I’m fucking allergic to PDA.” Your best friend interrupts your sweet moment as she throws a pillow at you. It hits right across Hoseok’s face.

“Yah!” He complains in annoyance as you regard your best friend with a scowl in your face.

“Well this isn’t a public display of affection you idiot. We’re in our house and all of you damn annoying germlings should leave us to ourselves.” You point out the obvious, looking at each of your friends. They all, yet again, are in your sweet home.

“Not until we come up with a plan for my birthday. This is really awkward, you know?” Daebi munches on some chips before continuing. “That I have to plan my own birthday. I have bunch of damn friends, and no one gives a fuck. I have to fucking surprise myself.”

“You don’t necessarily give any of us any time to plan anything Daebi. You’ve been planning on your own birthday ever since your last one ended.” Jimin defends you all. You and your other friend Nina can’t help but snort unpleasantly at how true that statement is. Daebi pouts adorably. You think it’s ridiculous that she doesn’t have a boyfriend yet. She is so damn gorgeous and adorable that it’s baffling how boys aren’t swooning over her 24/7.

“Okay, fine. My bad. I’m so fucking sorry Jimin.” She hisses at Jimin. “But still we need to plan my birthday. Tell me where we should go?” Yet doesn’t back away. All of you sigh frustratedly. Her birthday is a week away but you know she won’t shut up until you come up with a thorough plan.

“Well, it’s your birthday so you should decide how to celebrate.” You finally pull away from Hoseok’s warm embrace. Daebi lights up instantly.

“Really? And you gonna agree with anything that I come up with?” Asks. You all nod in unison. “Yep.” Nina even adds. “And you won’t say no? Won’t back away at the last minute?” Daebi asks again. “Jesus, woman, we won’t. Go ahead with this shit please.” It’s Nina who mutters irritatedly again.

“Elysium” This time Daebi doesn’t even blink as she excitedly bellows where she wants to celebrate her birthday. Yet only she looks excited. Aside from her, the entire room falls into a shocked silence.

“You want to go where now?” Nina leans forward on her seat. Disbelief written all over her features. She asks the exact same question you wanted to ask.

“The Elysium.” Deabi repeats with a nonchalant shrug.

“Are you fucking serious Daebi?” Hoseok is the one who questions this time. His brows pulled together.

“Yep.” Daebi looks around the room. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Looking at you like that? Dude, you want to go to Elysium. The fucking Elysium. Of all the damn places you can choose, you want us to hang out in the shadiest and most dangerous club in the city?” You practically yell at her.

“Oh c’mon, that’s just a myth. It’s a club just like any other club in the city which has a bad reputation due to something some idiot said.” She argues with a straight face.

“What if it’s not?” Jimin points a finger at her.

“Then we’ll leave. No biggies. I’m fucking curious about the place guys. C’mon, you promised you won’t say no.” Daebi whines.

“That was before you chose the fucking Elysium.” You groan.

“That doesn’t matter. Trust me guys, it’s just another club. Why are you people like this? Let’s live a little, yeah? This is our college life, if we won’t do such things now, when will we?” She gets to her feet. Obviously mad at all of you. Ready to leave. Makes you feel bad but you still can’t agree to go out into the one place everyone should stay away. It’s just common knowledge. It’s undoubtedly an illegal club. Can go inside only with an invitation. Or so people say. So, you have no idea how Daebi plans to go inside even if you all agreed.

“Okay, fine. But we will leave if anything suspicious happens, okay?”

Just before Daebi turns around a voice next you adds with a heavy sigh. You snap your head to your right at light speed at the same time Daebi stops on her track. You gape at Hoseok in utter pure disbelief.

“Really?” Daebis asks slowly.

“Really?” You shout loudly.

Hoseok turns to you first.

“I mean, it really can be a rumor baby. We’ll go inside, and if anything seems off, we’ll leave right away.” He assures you despite the uncertainty laced in his face.

“Ha! We’re about to die on the day Daebi was born. What a way to go.” Jimin snickers before he gets up and disappears inside your kitchen. You look at Nina, hoping to have some back up on your side. She sighs heavily.

“I really don’t know guys. As long as you keep me safe, I’m down.” She gets up as well.

“No but-” You turn to Hoseok again. “You got nothing to be afraid of, baby. I Got you. C’mon it’s just for this once and she’s your best friend.”

He snakes a hand around your shoulders and pulls you into his body. Places a soft kiss in your hair. You squeeze your eyes shut in frustration. You swear you want to argue. Say no. But Hoseok has this soft spot inside your heart that makes it impossible for you to say no.

Gosh this is so fucking annoying!

“Please.” Hoseok plants another kiss on your cheek. Then another. Another plea. And you’re melting.

“Okay.” You relent at the seventh kiss to be precise. “But I swear to god Daebi-” You try to speak over the squeals Daebi is letting out. “-I’m gonna kill you both if anything happens. Yah! Are you listening to me?” You shout through the top of your lungs. Just to get ignored. Hoseok shakes you softly in his hold. You give up trying to negotiate. A smile creeps across your lips as your other two friends join you back again.

“Still, you can’t go in without an invitation Daebi. How are we gonna manage that? Break in? Oh, God please don’t tell me that’s what you want.” Jimin points out a very valid question, sitting back with another packet of chips. Great.

“Just leave that to me.” Daebi chirps excitedly. Everyone regards her with curious looks. Waits till she clarifies further. She doesn’t. Just smiles mischievously. Guess she has her ways and knowing Daebi, you know she won’t tell you even if you begged. So, you all leave that up to her. Just like she asks.

……………………………

You knot the trash bag tightly. A sigh escapes your mouth as you pick it up to take outside. Despite how annoying it was to have your friends over at your place all the time, it gets a little bit lonely when no one is around. Your entire apartment feels hollow. So empty and quiet that the sound of a needle dropping would echo as a bomb detonating. You would’ve appreciated the peace if Hoseok was here, though.

You click your tongue in annoyance, making your way toward the front door. All you want is one alone moment with your boyfriend without your friends around. And in the one time you get such a chance, Hoseok has to leave you alone for- in his words- much needed boys night. You asked Daebi to come over tonight, but it turns out she was busy for the first time in her life.

Guess you are alone for the night.

Crisp night air kisses your face the moment you exit the apartment building. You shudder a little. You hate taking trash out but it was becoming unavoidable. The entire apartment was starting to smell like rotten cabbage slowly. That was your cue to tidy up the place. Hence, you’re using your one peaceful, lonely, shitty night to do just that. You open the lid of the trash bin and throw the bag inside. Trying not to breathe so the disgusting smell won’t reach your innocent nostrils. You close back the lid faster as possible. Drag in a deep breath when you do and turn around absentmindedly.

“Hey!”

You jolt so hard that you almost lose your balance. A very inhuman scream escapes your throat. Your hands immediately go up to cover your face in a pitiful attempt of protecting yourself.

“Shit! I’m so sorry. It’s just me.” A voice reaches you at the same time a pair of hands are shot up in a surrendering position.

You instinctively step back. It takes your startled brain a good long minute to register what’s happening. To register the figure in front of you who suddenly emerges there. First thing you notice is a black hood. Then all you notice is black. Black clothing from head to toe. Face hidden behind that hood.

No Name!

You exhale a shaky breath in relief.

Fuck! You had thought that you died.

“No Name? What the fuck! I nearly died, dude.” You finally manage to mumble in between your shaky breaths. Your head is still throbbing and your heart is running a marathon.

“S-sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.” He meekly mutters with a gentle nod in his head. That makes you calm down completely. It’s just him. So, you nod in return. Place your hands on your hips. Let out a final breath of relief. Open your mouth to ask what the hell he is doing here when he starts looking for something inside his pants pocket. Few more seconds and he is stretching his palm out for you. A wallet placed on his outstretched palm. A pink one to be precise. A familiar one. Very.

Wait! That’s yours.

Your eyes go wide as you recognize your wallet. Hell, you hadn’t even realized it was missing until now. When did you lose it? Today? Yesterday? When did you last see him? How did he find it?

“I-is that mine?” You ask dumbly when you already know it’s yours. “H-how?” Ask again without any effort to take the wallet in your hand.

“You left it in class the other day.” He answers simply. You blink at his face. That can’t be true. It’s been more than two days since your last lecture and there’s no way you were so oblivious to the fact that your wallet is missing. How come you never noticed?

But then again, he has it in his hands. There’s no other way for it to be in his possession. Maybe you accidentally left it there. Hoseok or someone else always paid for your food and stuff. Maybe you didn’t have to use your wallet. Or not. You’re not sure. You can’t remember. Using your wallet is such a normal and typical day to day activity that your brain hasn’t memorized the times or places you used it.

“O-okay.” You hesitantly accept his answer in the end. Slowly take the wallet in your hand. “Th-thank you.” Show your gratitude with a deep bow. He just nods again. A silence falls as you awkwardly stare at the man who is standing before you when a sudden question pops up in your head. “Wait!” You perk up. “How did you..? Uh- how do you know where I live?” You ask, suddenly alert. You’re pretty certain that you haven’t told him your address before.

“Uh…” He hesitates for a minute. Then a shrug. “Your friend.” Says making you even more confused.

“Friend?” So you question back. Brows furrowed.

“Your best friend. She told me she’s your best friend.”

“Daebi?”

“I guess so.”

“How did you meet her?” His answers don't ease your confusion but make it worse. Nothing makes sense to you.

“Today at the cafeteria. I saw you together once on the campus. I-uh so I reached her when I saw her today.”

Oh, that makes sense. Only that Daebi failed to let you know about it. She should let you know when someone reached her and ask her about your whereabouts. But this is Daebi. She doesn’t think things through even just to save her life. Of course, she just gave away your address to someone like that. Good thing it’s just him. You sigh in defeat this time. Nod.

“Okay. Thank you again.” You finally smile at him. “You helped me again. Uh- I didn’t even notice that this was gone.” Show him your wallet. “Thank you so much Mr. No Name.” Ease up enough to joke around. Another bow. Another smile and then back to being awkward. “Uh..” You stall, staring at him. Not knowing what to do. “Um.. do you like… uh, wanna come inside?” You blurt out in the end. Yep. That’s the right thing to do. True, you don’t know him well besides the few times you met him at the classes. But you know him, nonetheless. He even finished your report for you. And now he brought your wallet which you didn’t know was missing.

He takes a minute. Then nods.

……………………

“Would you like a drink?” You ask your nameless classmate, already rummaging through the fridge. Receive no answer which forces you to turn around. “No Name?” You quip, feeling amused to see him looking around like a lost kitten. Funny, how you still haven’t seen his face. Only tidbits here and there. Now as he’s looking up, you catch a glimpse of a chiseled jaw. Only for a moment because he snaps his head toward you at your voice.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

He catches you off guard with that question.

“Huh?”

“Your boyfriend? Where is he?” That’s the most this nameless, faceless guy has talked with you. And he asks such questions. You almost think there’s an underlying demand in his tone. You’re hearing it wrong probably.

“Out with the boys. Why?” So, you answer him anyway.

Of course, he doesn’t answer your question again. You wait for a few beats to pass hoping he’d continue the topic but when he doesn’t you decide to let it go. “So, do you want anything to drink? I have beer here. Or if you want anything-”

“What about your friend? The one I met. Your best friend.” He interrupts your little drinks offering. Nearly makes you mad about how he disregards your questions but interrogates you in return, as if he has any rights.

“Why are you asking?” This time you don’t answer.

“You don’t know?”

“‘Course I do. But why would you want to know?” You’re slowly getting irritated.

“Just asking. Because you’re alone here.” He answers so innocently that you instantly feel bad for feeling irritated even for a second.

“She has some assignments to finish.”

He nods in response to your answer. End of that conversation. Right? But you swear you feel that it isn’t finished. As if he has more to say but is trying to keep it shut. There's a sudden tension that fills the air. You feel uncomfortable. Something seems off. Maybe it’s because of the fact that he doesn't normally talk this much. Or the fact he has appeared on your doorway with a wallet that you didn’t know was lost. Or simply you’re being ridiculous. Or-

“You’re really pretty!” If his previous questions caught you off guard, this one leaves you tongue-tied. Your mouth goes into a perfect shape of ‘o’. That is so sudden. Completely out of the blue.

Is that normal? Do people say stuff like that to others?

“What?” When someone compliments you, the right thing to do is thank them. But this feels abnormal.

“You’re really pretty. And I’d like to have a beer.”

Oh!

It’s very rare when you don’t know how to act or what to say. This apparently is one of those rare moments. So, you simply nod and hand him over a beer. Wait uneasily until he finishes it, in hope that he'll leave afterward. You want him to leave because you’re in discomfort. Something isn’t right. You can sense it. He doesn’t leave, however. No matter how long you wait, drowning in that uncomfortable silence, staring at his black hoodie, he doesn’t even show a sign of wanting to leave. If anything, he shifts uncomfortably in his position a few times. You note how he clutches the beer can tightly. He definitely has something to ask you. And you’re getting impatient.

“Uh.. are you, um…” He leaves you with no other options but to ask.

“I have a favour to ask.”

You knew it!

You’re surprised again, though. Never thinking that it was about a favor. But at least this makes it a little bit less awkward. Better than engaging in an alone staring competition. “Oh yeah? What is it?” You’re honestly happy to help him. He did that report for you after all.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“In the morning, yes. Why?” You furrow your brows.

“Want to go out for a coffee with me?”

You thought surprises are over. Thought he was just complimenting you generally. Now, this doesn’t feel like that. Suddenly, Daebi’s voice haunts your mind again.

Who knows? Maybe he likes you.

No. This can’t be that. He’s just asking. Like a friend. And you are fully allowed to decline the invitation. Which you should because you feel weird. Weird about something you can’t quite decipher.

You inhale a shaky breath, preparing yourself to decline his offer. Mentally going through all the excuses you can offer when a sudden sound disrupts you both. Both of you snap your heads to where the sound came. Undoubtedly that was the sound of the front door opening. Makes you confused since no one would come here around this hour. You almost walk out of the kitchen thinking maybe it’s Daebi when your assumptions come wrong as the person who just entered your apartment just walks over to the kitchen.

“Hoseok?” You exclaim in surprise. It’s not even past 10 at night and you can’t believe he’s home this early. When they go out, he doesn’t usually come home at all for the night. This is a nice surprise. Even a gentle smile spreads across your face. You hurry over to your boyfriend. Just to stop after a few steps. Brows furrowing at the sight of your boyfriend scowling deep. It looks like something happened. Yet before you could ask, Hoseok turns away from you. His scowl deepens.

“You have company?” He grumbles, making you turn around as well. A figure standing in the middle of the kitchen comes to your vision.

Oh, you forgot the presence of your classmate.

“Oh, he was just bringing me my lost wallet.” You explain quickly.

“You lost your wallet?” Hoseok pays his attention back to you.

“Well, I didn’t know that I lost it but apparently I have and he-”

“You didn’t know you'd lost your wallet.” Hoseok snaps suddenly and a quick jerk ripples through you. It’s rare when he gets mad. You quickly glance at the stranger in your house. Hoseok and you need to have this conversation later. He’s probably in a foul mood and letting it out on you. You gulp harshly before turning to the visitor.

“Hey! I would- uh- see you in the next class. Thank you again for bringing my wallet. That’s so nice of you.” You still don’t want to appear rude and give him the impression that you want to get rid of him. You have no other choice though. Luckily for you Hoseok doesn’t intervene. He says nothing as you walk your friend back to the door. Says nothing nor does follow you until you bid goodbye to your nameless friend and return back to the kitchen. Only after then he speaks again.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing (__)?” He lashes at you the moment you return to the kitchen. Makes you furrow your brows in mild annoyance.

“What?” You still try your best not to get mad and just talk this through.

“Inviting some stranger inside?”

“He’s no stranger. He’s this kid from my class. You even met him once and he was my partner on that darn assignment.”

“Yeah? The kid who you don’t even know the name of?”

Well, you have no answer for that. Maybe even when the guy wasn’t telling you his name, you should’ve at least tried to figure it out on your own. “See?” Hoseok continues in your silence. “He’s fucking weird (___). I mean, who the fuck keeps their face hidden all the damn time. And why the fuck he can’t tell you his name? Who is he? A fucking spy?” You watch at your boyfriend’s reddened face in partial anger and partial surprise. You don’t think that he should really make it that much of a big deal after all. “And you decided to invite him inside while you’re all alone?” He grits making you finally snap.

“Yeah, and who’s fault was that?”

“Oh now it’s my fault? What is this now? I can’t even go out with my friends?”

“For fucks sake Hoseok! What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. I’m just fucking mad to see my girlfriend is hanging out with this weird man when I come home.”

“He’s not fucking weird. Gosh, you guys are all so fucking mean.” You yell so loud that Hoseok instantly shuts his mouth before you turn around on your heel. Leaving him alone in the kitchen and making a beeline toward your bedroom. See, it’s not that you really wanted to defend No Name against your boyfriend. He was weird to tell the truth. You were so uncomfortable with him and are so glad that Hoseok made an appearance right at the time. Yet, the fact Hoseok isn’t clearly interested in your well being but just letting out something else on you makes you so angry. Hence your sudden outburst.

You don’t even look back as you storm into your shared bedroom and slam the door shut behind you. Hoseok can sleep on the couch tonight.

………………….

This has been the longest you’ve fought with each other. Ever since you started dating, which wasn’t that long ago, you haven’t really fought except for a little argument here and there. Now, after a week of tiptoeing around each other, you feel like shit. It’s completely your fault, to be honest. Hoseok had knocked on your bedroom door and apologized right away. Had begged you to open the door. It was you- stupid, stubborn- you who had started another fight right that moment. And Hoseok hadn’t apologized after that. Which is very fair. If someone has to apologise, it should be you. Something that you’ve failed to bring yourself to do so far.

You sigh wearily as the professor starts today’s lecture. You’re once again seated on the far end of the lecture hall. Next to the very same guy who caused a fight with your boyfriend. The same guy who made you feel so uneasy and asked you out for a coffee. You’ve convinced yourself he only meant it as a friendly gesture. It was your shameless twisted mind that had misunderstood it. And you’ve decided to ignore the way he called you pretty. That’s why you’ve decided to sit at your usual seat.

Despite everything, things have been going normally with No Name for your pleasure. He hasn’t acknowledged you really. Which is how normally it is and you’re pleased. You’ve asked him how his day was and he has only just nodded. See, he was just being nice and it was you who made it awkward that day. You mentally slapped yourself for the millionth time at the thought of how wrong you were to interpret something like that.

Everything will definitely be okay if you just apologize to your boyfriend. You plan to do that tonight. Before going to celebrate Daebi’s birthday. It’s finally the day and you really didn’t have a time to dread the moment. Because you were actively busy with being mad at your boyfriend, you forgot to be afraid of going into a shady club tonight.

Well, all the more reasons to apologize to your boyfriend before you die tonight.

“Is he still mad at you?” The voice is so unexpected that your body does a mini jolt. Your head snaps to your left where your new friend sits. “Your boyfriend.” He clarifies without you asking. You chuckle nervously, wishing it would sound like scoffing.

“Why would he be mad?” Ask in return.

“Because I was there. Did he ask you to stop seeing me?”

You take your time at that question. You think it’s impressive how he really knows Hoseok was mad because he was there. Yet, that question feels personal. You’re not that close to discussing things like this.

“Of course, no.” You scoff this time for real. “Why would he do that? He was just upset about something that happened with his friends.” You explain though there is no reason to do such a thing. Your friend just hums.

And there it comes again. A feeling that there is something he’s not telling you. Like he knows something you don’t. It wasn’t about the coffee, was it? No. This is something else. You badly want to question what it is but the class ends before you could. And you change your mind after that. It would sound crazy if you ask something like that anyway. Yet the feeling never ceases. It hangs in the air while you walk back out. It hangs between you when you bid goodbye and be ready to part your ways. It hangs in your mind even when you turn around and walk a few steps away and hear him calling for you suddenly.

You turn around curiously.

“What about the coffee?” He shouts aloud since you’re too far across to talk in a normal voice.

Again?

“I-uh…” You’ve really hoped that he’d forgotten it by now. That he’d let it go. You hate when you have to turn down people. You’re a people pleaser.

“That’s fine if you don’t want to.” He shouts back while you just try to come up with something. You almost take a step forward. A sincere apology is at just the tip of your tongue. “See you later (___)!” Yet he beats you to it. Turns around and walks away. Leaving you to just gape at his retrieving back.

You feel uneasy. An uneasy feeling. But what’s most annoying is the fact that you really can’t pinpoint it. Yet still it is there. He knows something that you don’t.

…………………………

You stand near the bar adjusting the hem of your short dress. Trying to pull it down. You chose this dress and there’s no one else to blame but your stupid self. After a few useless attempts you give up. You stand beside Nina. All of your other friends, including your boyfriend, have gone for a smoke.

“It looks okay? Isn’t it?” Nina snaps you out of your thoughts. You scan the dimly lit club for what must be the hundredth time before answering her. “I mean yeah. Like it looks okay but who knows?” You’re still not completely on board for this idea. If it weren’t for Daebi, you’d rather study your entire degree all over again than be here. True, it really looks like a normal club- just duller than the ones you’ve previously visited and crowded with much older people than young college kids. Yet that doesn’t mean this is an illegal club where all these people are criminals in one way or another.

Daebi can be completely correct. This reputation Elysium has can be just a myth. Something someone made up. Something people like to believe because of the invitation system. You still have no idea how Daebi managed to get you an invitation. She somehow did and now you’re standing here stupidly.

“Ugh, I’m pretty sure nothing’s wrong. All of these people look normal.” Nina adds after your negative response.

“Of course, they are Nina. What do you expect? For these people to kill each other?”

She tries to counter but stops when Jimin joins you back. Closely followed by the birthday girl and Hoseok. You and Hoseok haven’t made up yet. This time it’s his fault. You’ve tried your best to apologize and resolve the issue. It was him who had avoided you saying you should talk about this later. Now you would have to wait until the night is over to patch things up with him.

“See guys? Told you it’s just a myth. This is just another normal club with lots of drinks.” Daebi squeals. Walks to you and drapes an arm around your shoulder.

“How would you know for sure?” You shrug her hand off. You still feel off. Something feels off. Call it a gut feeling. Maybe this feeling has nothing to do with this place since you’ve been feeling this way for quite some time now. Ever since the day Mr. No Name brought your wallet to your house. Daebi clicks her tongue.

“Look around you (__),” She grabs your chin to forcefully make you do as she asks. You take brief glances over at people drinking, dancing, grinding, kissing, making out and doing every other thing they would do in a club. “Can you see anything illegal happening?” Asks. No. That’s the answer. But why on the earth your friends can’t understand that dangers don’t always lie on the surface. These people might seem harmless but there's a fat possibility that someone is carrying a gun in their front pant pocket. Casually. Just like someone would carry their mobile. You try to tell the exact same thing. Hoseok interrupts you before you can, however.

“Oh c’mon, (__). Just fucking loosen up a bit. You don’t have to kill the mood every time. Just grab a drink and have fun.” He barks, making you completely speechless. Really? Shouldn’t he take your side? You would’ve gotten really mad at him again if it wasn’t for Jimin just reassuringly patting your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s really fine (__). We won’t keep you in a dangerous place. C’mon, let’s have a drink.” He guides you toward the bar with the hand on your shoulder. You throw a disappointed glance at Hoseok, which he disregards completely. As if you don’t exist at this moment.

“You guys go ahead, I just want to use the bathroom.” Instead he mumbles. Turns around and almost leaves when Daebi perks up.

“Me too. Coming?” She asks Nina. Not you. Well, that’s fine.

“Nah. Just go ahead.” Nina turns to you. Daebi gives a ‘whatever’ kind of nod before disappearing after Hoseok.

………………………

Night officially started for your party over an hour ago. Yet you aren’t even tipsy. Haven’t even started to feel it. Fair, considering that you’ve been sipping the same glass of wine ever since Jimin brought it to you. This is not how you normally act. It’s unfair of Hoseok to say you always ruin the fun. You know how to have fun. You and he always have fun. An involuntary pout graces your features at the reminder of his hurtful words. It’s just you don’t feel it tonight. At this specific place. You really wish your boyfriend would just understand that.

You take another small sip from your glass of wine. Alone at the bar. All of your friends have gone to enjoy the night with whatever they like to do. You can see Nina and Jimin rocking it on the dance floor from where you are seated. Hoseok and Daebi, however, are nowhere to be seen. Makes you really worried. You want to make sure everyone is okay. You want to keep an eye on each and everyone.

A frown appears on your forehead after you try in vain to catch a sign of your boyfriend or best friend for the ninth time . Maybe you should just give up and get completely wasted.

Yes you should just do that.

With one last heavy sigh you bring the glass to your lips. Almost succeed when a sharp voice interrupts you.

“You might want to slow down with that, young lady.” You just avert your gaze to the owner of that voice. A man. Probably a lot older than you. You disregard his presence and his words as you down the entire glass. “Woah!” He exclaims with an amused smile.

You intend to ignore him further. That’s your plan. Yet you still give him a polite smile just so you won’t come out like a rude bitch. A mistake.

“Next drink is on me but take it slow beauty.” He mumbles in a way which you know that he thinks is charming but sounds comical to your ears. Already turns to the pretty bartender. “One more-”

“No thanks. I’m good.” You stop him before he can continue, drawing his attention back to you.

“Why not?”

“I’m just not in a mood to drink.”

“Now, that is a very obvious lie. You were drinking wine like it was water sun shine. You’re hurting my feelings. Don’t be like that. Let’s just have one drink.” You should’ve thought more about the lies you tell. Too late now. But you really don’t want to accept a drink from a stranger. He doesn’t look shady but just a little bit older. It’s just you haven’t completely let your guard down. You shake your head while almost standing up to leave.

“I’m really good. Thank you.”

Almost. Even before you can place your feet properly on the floor a glass of wine is placed in front of you with a loud thud. You gasp at the unexpected sound. Take a moment to realize what’s just happened. That’s only when you turn your head to look at the man’s face. Dark. Not a single sign of a smile. Your throat goes dry instantly.

“No one says ‘no’ to me princess. A bitch should know her place after all. Now drink up.”

What now?

You gape at the man as if he has grown two heads. This is not good. You should leave immediately. But the man doesn’t look like he’d appreciate you suddenly leaving. You shift your gaze from his face to the drink that has been put on the counter. Then back to the man. He raises a menace eyebrow. You have no idea what he would do to you if you refuse again. You’ve met your fair share of drunken assholes while clubbing. Yet all those assholes were just pathetic college kids and nobody has ever called you a bitch. No one.

This man must’ve looked normal a minute ago but now he seems like someone who could kill someone with his bare hands. “Drink up you little whore.” He suddenly spits out. You inhale a shaky breath. Maybe you shouldn’t show any weakness. Maybe you should argue and stand up and leave with your head held high. But then for your great dismay you undoubtedly notice the silver of metal glinting from the pocket of his coat. If you think your throat went dry earlier now you’re certain you’ve eaten sand. Heart is starting to beat madly. Head is starting to pound violently.

You were right after all. This place wasn’t just having a negative reputation. It’s true. What you’re just seeing in his pocket is undoubtedly a grip of a gun. You’ve never seen one in real life but the movies exist. You know it’s a gun. And somehow you know it’s not just a plaything.

Act cool. Act cool.

You shouldn’t show that you’re scared.

You eye the drink again. Mind swirling around all the possibilities that would occur if you try to just leave. What could he do? Shoot? There are people around here. He wouldn’t be able to get away after firing at a college girl. Would he now? You decide you don’t want to find out. It’s your life. You can’t take a risk. It’s just a drink after all. You can just drink it and then find an excuse to leave. With that thought you just don’t waste any time. Just grab the drink and drown it in one go, hoping that’d be the end of the ordeal. But of course who were you kidding, after all. Just as the glass is emptied, it is filled to the brim again. Then again. And at the fourth drink you decide to slow down, understanding that you downing drinks faster than a thunder won’t be of any help for you at all.

“There you go princess. See, it wasn’t that hard now.” The older man smiles at you which looks like an ugly sneer to you. It must be more than half an hour now. Where the hell are your friends? On top of all, where the hell is your so-called boyfriend? Why’s no one coming to save you? You take a brief glance at the dance floor for what must be the hundredth time. No sign of Jimin or Nina. They’ve disappeared somewhere in between your first encounter with this man and your first drink. It looks like you’re all on your own at this rate. You’d have to come up with something.

“Guess so.. Yeah.” You take another harsh sip. Nervously. Trying to hide the tremble in your hands. “Would you mind if I go to the restroom quickly?” You question hoping him to not take your bait at all. Hundred presently. But then your eyes go completely wide at his response. “Of course not. Why are you even asking?” A chuckle escapes his lips. You, however, don’t wait to ponder your sudden luck. Just as the words leave his mouth you’re on your feet. Already on a half run toward where your head turns. You don’t even check where the bathrooms are. Just in desperate hope to find at least one of your stupid friends. Then just leave this damned place. You may have lucked out once, but that doesn’t mean you will again. You need to get the hell out of this place.

………………..

You rush through the sweaty bodies. Pushing past annoyed people. Your head throbbing painfully. Maybe you’ve drunk too much. Even your sight is getting blurry. You look around in panic. Still no sign of your friends. You’re starting to feel nauseous. Something doesn’t feel right. So far, you've been lucky that the scary man hasn’t followed you. Yet everything feels far scarier to you suddenly. Every man and woman you pass. Every glance they cast your way. Every word they murmur. They all look like they’re about to kill you. Your heart pounds in your ears now. You barely can hear the loud music over the roar in your own ears.

Where are they?

Where the fuck are they?

You mumble an apology to another man you accidentally bump into.

“Watch where you’re going, you little tramp!” He spits. You shrink away instantly. Your headache is intensifying. In your haste to get away from him you bump into someone else.

“Holy shit!” You turn around to find a woman. Her drink has spilled all over her. You probably did that. You try to apologize but she shoves you away before you could. “Move!” Shouts as she does. You lose your balance at the force. Or not. Maybe she didn’t push you that hard, but you’re too drunk to stay on your feets. Your hands try in vain to grab something when you stumble back. You brace for the impact, but it never comes. Instead your back hits something, or someone, saving you from presumably hitting your head. You almost let out a sigh in relief. Almost though. Even before you can begin, you are turned around harshly by your arm.

A whimper escapes you. It’s the same man who called you a tramp. One look at his furious face tells you that you’ve fucked up.

“S-sorry.” You mumble so fast that you stutter pathetically. It’s like your word doesn’t even reach him, however.

“The fuck’s wrong with ya?” He growls. His grip tightens.

Oh, no, no, no.

How did you escape one danger only to end up in another? Why can’t you be careful? Why can’t you just walk straight?

“I- I’m so-”

“Can’t even walk straight, huh? Stumblin’ round like some dumb bitch lookin’ for trouble.”

You really want to say no. Want to argue. But his words are slowly drifting away. Like he’s moving farther away from you.

“What? Too drunk to speak now?” His fingers dig into your arm, yanking you forward. His stinking breath hits your nostrils. You’re going to throw up.

Oh god what’s happening?

You’re sweating like a pig. Sounds around you are getting overwhelming. People’s voices are echoing inside your skull.

Why can’t you find anyone?

Why is this place getting hotter?

“Or…. is this your way of hitting on me you little minx? That it? Ain’t gotta go fallin’ all over me like some desperate little slut. Shoulda just asked, sweetheart.” The gruff man’s voice suddenly comes into your senses.

No. No..

What is he even talking about?

You try to protest weakly. Try to disagree. But words don’t come out. Your throat is burning. So is your chest. Things don’t make sense to you. Yet at the same time you know you’re in danger. Warning alarms ring inside your head. And your head nearly explodes in panic when the man starts to drag you forward. Away from the crowd.

“No..” You finally find your voice. It’s strained. As if you’ve not used it for years. Sounds like it’s not yours. “No..” You try to yank your arm free to no avail. The man’s grip is like iron. Besides, you're in no position to fight.

Could a few glasses of wine do this?

This is not the first time you got drunk. You’ve certainly drunk more than this but have never felt this way. Too fucked up. Too out of it. You have no control over your body. Just your mind in high alert and trying to escape.

“No. Let me go.” Still, you keep trying. Keep trying to free yourself from the harsh, disgusting hand on your arm. It doesn’t work. God, it doesn’t work. Before you know, you are dragged into an empty backroom. Before you know, the man pushes you into a wall. You hit the concrete behind you with a loud thud. A sharp jolt of pain shoots across your body at the collision. As if your spine just snapped. You yelp in pain which he disregards completely.

Instead of worrying about your possible broken back, he instantly throws himself at you. You do your best to turn your head away just before his chapped lips can land on yours. Makes him mad apparently. He snarls something you really don’t hear. But you certainly do feel the sting when his palm hits your face. A loud gasp leaves past your lips. Weak limbs come forward to fight with a man who’s strong like a bull. You try to push the scumbag away. Try to claw at his arm, face, any place you find.

It doesn’t work.

You’re too weak.

The man tangles his rough fingers in your hair. Yanks your head back. You cry out. You can’t even scream. He holds your head in place. You writhe in your place. Trying desperately to wrench yourself away. Your mind screams the words you can’t get out.

No… Don’t.

You don’t even realize that you’ve been crying. At least not until you start to taste your own tears.

None of your efforts succeeds. You feel his breath on your face first. Then his dry lips ghosts over yours. Bile rises in your throat. A strangled sob finds its way out. You close your eyes tightly. Finally accepting the defeat. Brace yourself to feel his rotten lips engulfing yours whole. But then just a millisecond before that happens, you hear a loud groan. Groan in a painful way.

Something wet splashes across your face.

Something hot.

You snap your eyes open. Just in time to find the man being yanked back by a figure. Your attacker's hand leaves your body and hair. This time, instead of grabbing you, he clutches his own neck with both hands. Grumbling. Gurgling.

It takes your shocked brain a minute to understand anything.

A long minute.

Then you see blood. Red, hot blood. Dripping down from your attacker's throat to the floor. Seeping through his fingers. His hands are covered in bright red. Then you hear the choked, wet gasps he is leaving out.

Blood.

Wounded.

You didn’t know it is possible to feel more scared. More terrified. Yet here you are. Eyes wide in horror and not being able to breathe properly.

Blood.

Only one word rings inside your head. Blood everywhere. It was blood that splashed in your face. You press yourself more against the wall desperately just as the man falls into the floor. A loud thud erupts. Your eyes naturally follow the movement. Catching the gruesome image of him writhing on the dirty floor. And you see that a sleek silver metal is buried in the side of his throat. Blood oozing from where it’s swallowed by torn flesh.

A chopstick!

Your heart rate slows down. Vision is starting to turn dark. Your hands unconsciously come up to cover your own mouth. Legs give up. You fall down halfway against the wall when a second figure lunges at the man on the floor. In a blink of an eye the second man pulls out the chopstick from your attacker's neck. Makes blood stream down like a waterfall. Then even without a second thought the newcomer pierces the chopstick through the first’s shoulder. A loud scream erupts from the first. Yet does nothing to stop the man with the chopstick. He pulls it out again. Attacks the other’s chest. Pulls out again. Then stabs a different spot.

“How” Pulls out again. “Dare” Stabs again. “You.” Pulls out. “Fucking” Stabs. “Touch” Pulls out. “Her.” Stabs. Stabs. Stabs. Blood splashing everywhere. Each time a new spot. Merciless weak cries fill the air.

And your hands fail to keep your mouth shut anymore. This time who lets out a weak scream which is nothing but a pathetic whimper turns out to be you. Your eyes wide in horror and body trembling like a leaf in a storm. Yet no matter how weak the sound you make, he hears it nonetheless.

The second man who just pulled out the chopstick once more and ready to attack the man back stops dead at your sound.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck.

You shouldn’t have screamed.

You shouldn’t have grabbed the attention.

It’s already too late, however. That second someone turns his head back. Toward you. A second pass. And at the same time you almost turn around to run away he gets to his feet, abandoning the now wounded man whimpering and crying on the floor. Drops the chopstick to the floor and it clatters against the dirty concrete. Your delayed attempt to run is futile as a pair of hands wrap around you tight. Before you can even make a sound, your face is buried in a broad, heaving chest, its rapid heartbeat pounding against your ear. You yet again fail to make sense of the situation.

What’s happening?

“I’m so sorry. I was a bit late. So sorry (__).”

A voice reaches you. A voice that is breathless. Hands protectively wrapped around your shaking body.

Your brain instantly falls into an alerting mode. The first thought that crosses your mind is that this person is going to hurt you too. Hence, your weak and pathetic attempt to wriggle free. Of course, it doesn’t work. It won’t work. You’re still very much in the same state you’ve been a minute ago. Still too out of it. If anything, you feel more vulnerable now. Growing weaker and weaker by every passing second.

The newcomer, however, starts to gently rock you. Trying to soothe your trembling, writhing body. Shushing you softly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me (__). It’s just me.”

You have no idea who this me is. At least for a second you don’t. Then somewhere in the back of your mind a bell rings. A familiar voice, isn’t it? You’ve heard it before. So close. You know this person. You know him, to be precise.

With a great struggle against his vice hold you manage to turn your head up to catch sight of a black hoodie. You can’t see a face because the face is covered in the said hoodie. You inhale a shaky breath as you recognize him. Sure, you watched him before but it’s only now that things are registering in your mind.

“N-no n-name?”

“Yeah,” He holds you tightly again. You think you hear a hint of joy in his voice. “Yeah, it’s just me. It’s fine. Calm down baby.” He murmurs in your ear.

Baby?

Your panicked mind runs a mile a minute to make sense of the situation. How quickly things are happening. You were just fine half an hour ago. With your friends. And then this happens? And he is here? Why is he here?

It’s just me…

It’s just fine…

Fine !Fine?

What’s fine? Someone tried to fucking assault you. And that someone is now half- dead. He- your damn classmate- brutally attacked him, didn’t he? It’s like a whole another realization that dawns upon you. He stabbed that man with a fucking chopstick. Mr. No Name- a college kid who is just like you did that.

Oh, god!

This can’t be happening right now. You need space. Can’t breathe. You want him to move. Don’t want him touching you. He has blood on his hands.

True, he saved you by doing so. If it weren’t for him, you’d be lying somewhere, unable to fight back, facing the cruelest fate. You’re a teeny bit glad but nonetheless you’re scared to death. A man is dying in front of your eyes. You saw a man with a pierced throat. You saw blood spurting out of his body. Eyes open and becoming soulless.

And the person who caused that,- this kid is saying to you that it’s fine.

No! Nothing’s fine. You want to run away. You need someone who you can truly trust. Need your boyfriend. Need Daebi. Someone who’s not a murderer. You try to push him away. He, however, doesn’t take the hint. Instead of letting you go, he hugs you into his body even tighter.

“It’s fine baby. Just calm down. I’m so sorry.” He places a hand on the back of your head. Holds you so close. So gently. As if you’re made of fine china. As if you’d break if he touches you a little rougher. Buries his face in your neck. His breath hits your skin soothingly. Rocks you ever so gently. Oh, so gently that you almost calm down. Despite all the chaos and the horror of what he’s done, you find sudden solace in his arms. Maybe that’s because you’re familiar with him. Or it’s just how he holds you. Allowing you to sob into his chest. Whatever that is, it could’ve worked perfectly if it wasn't for his next actions. If it wasn’t for the sudden hot, wetness you feel on your neck. And his shaky breath. You snap out of the false sense of protection you’ve been feeling instantly at the sensation of his lips pressing against your skin. Ready to move away.

He doesn’t let you.

“I’m so sorry.” He murmurs again.

“Wh-what are you.. Le-let me?” You stutter. Your still confused, frozen brain struggles to react. You’re so slow on your movements that your efforts on moving away does nothing but expose more of your skin for him to pepper with soft-wet kisses. He kisses every inch of skin he can find. Over and over again. As if he’s going mad.

“So sorry, princess.” He mumbles as if it's some kind of mantra. In between his sloppy kisses. Nuzzles your neck with his nose. Inhales. Groans. Like he’s getting drunk on your smell.

No.

Oh shit!

He likes you.

It’s too late now. You’ve waited too long.

Why does that matter now?

What are you even thinking?

What matters is the fact that a person is dying. You can still hear the gasps he’s letting out. You can still hear the sound of blood flowing out his weak body.

He killed a man. He’s kissing you over a dying man’s body. You shut your eyes tight. In a desperate attempt to find strength. To escape reality. As if everything would change once you open your eyes. Yet as soon as you close your eyes, your mind is plagued with blood. Splitted throat. Wet chokes.

A cry tangles in your throat as you open your eyes back.

You want to run away. Want to hide. You’re going to be sick.

But then his warm lips press on your pulse point. And regardless of your horrified state a shudder ripples through you. A sensation that almost makes your toes curl.

What? What’s happening?

How come you feel that way when you’re so scared? How is it that your body doesn’t comply with your mind?

“Y-you ca-can’t-” Another failed attempt. Another bunch of words that don’t even reach his ears. He seriously can’t be doing that now? Among million other reasons why he can’t, the fact that he almost killed a damn man holds the highest spot. What kind of monster someone should be to be able to kill and then casually forgets it.

Your classmate apparently does. Which means he is that kind of a monster. He’s acting like nothing happens. Like it’s his right to hold you like this. Kiss you like this. He changes the path of his kissing. Trails his lips along your jawline. Toward your cheek. Inching closer and closer to your lips. And for a second time, you tremble like a leaf. Not from fear. No. Purely due to the sensation he’s creating. Your mind is going numb. Your senses are becoming dull.

You’re losing it completely.

Despite what you really want, your body is giving away.

You should shove him away. You should scream at him. You should run away.

But you can’t.

You feel tired. Exhausted. You can’t fight anymore. Not that you’ve been doing an effective job at that previously either. You were already lost. So, you give up. Your hands fall limp between you. You give into the sensation while your mind still screams. While your stomach still churns awfully. While tears still flood down your cheeks and your heart still pounds violently. While you’re still very scared, you do nothing when his lips find yours.

How ridiculous this situation is. He saved you from an assaulter just to become another one. Only different is the way you’re just standing there as his lips are pressed hard against you. For a minute. Then he is moving them. His tongue gently licks along the seam of your lips. You don’t intend to understand the silent invitation and open your mouth. Yet, that’s what you do. Unintentionally. As if your body is doing something you’re very familiar with. You open your mouth immediately. Welcoming his soft tongue to explore your insides. He does that very eagerly. Licking inside your mouth and sucking on your tongue. Groaning. And you can’t stop moaning into his mouth in return.

Can’t stop curling your toes when he roams his hands over your body. Your waits, your back, and your ass. He squeezes your soft flesh and you feel a fire lighten inside you. That fire turns into lava and shoots across your veins when he presses his lower abdomen against your body. Letting you feel the unmistakable hardness inside his denim.

It feels good. No matter how wrong that is, it still feels good. No matter that you’re still terrified and want nothing but to run away, this feels good. Too good to be precise. Ecstatic as he slowly starts to grind that hardness into you. So, you moan again. Moan into the searing kiss. Delwing in the sensation of his hands, hard cock, and his soft lips.

He kisses you sensually. Like a gentle lover. Carefully. Oh, so lovingly.You would’ve believed he loves you if it wasn’t for the situation. The truth is he doesn’t. He’s taking advantage of you. And you feel so helpless.

Why’s no one coming down this path?

How’s no one seeing that someone is wounded?

Oh, god! Someone is dying. The killer is kissing you. He’s holding you with blood splattered hands.

You need to stop this. You should just try again.

And so you do—only for it to be in vain, of course. Trying to shove him away with weak hands. This time, however, after a few efforts he actually pulls away. Just to rest his forehead against you. Sharing the same breath. You hold onto his black hoodie for your dear life. You’ll fall your ass down otherwise. A sob after a sob still escaping your dry lips. You do your best not to look down. To not look at the man. At blood. Instead you try to focus on breathing. Because it has become so difficult.

“You’re fine baby. I’m so sorry.” He brings your attention back to him. You say nothing. You’re not capable. “I promise I didn’t mean to let someone else touch you. I’m sorry I was late.” So, he continues in your dead silence. “It was only meant for me. It was supposed to be just a little dose.” A kiss into your hair. “Just to loosen you up for me. I never meant to scare you so much. Oh, baby-” His grip tightens. “I didn’t mean to scare you, hm?”

A kiss to your forehead.

It’s like your brain works extra slow. It’s like his words come from such a distance that it takes you time to register them.

A kiss to your crown line.

“I really didn’t mean to let someone else touch you. I’m so sorry.”

What did he say now?

Supposed?

A little dose?

A kiss to your temple.

Your heart beat is getting slower. Dots slowly but surely getting connected in your heavy mind.

Only meant for me.

To loosen you up for me.

Little dose! A dose! Loosen up! A dose!

Drugs!

You’ve been drugged.

Suddenly, everything makes sense. The reason for all of this. For your weak body. Why your body doesn’t comply with your mind. He drugged you. The man back there, drugged you. No. No. Wait. It wasn’t him.

It’s this person. Your classmate.

He drugged you!

And then he killed a man. Or tried to.

This time you tremble actually from the fear. A fear that engulfs you whole that you’re certain there’s no way of getting rid of it. Yet you scream. For the first time in this night you manage to get your voice out. A shrill scream. Enough to awaken the dead. You manage to at least make a distance between you two even if you still couldn’t push him completely away.

With your head still violently pounding and spinning you manage to take a step to your side. Not completely knowing what you’re doing. Just wanting to get away. But he’s quicker than you. His hands are on you even before you know it. Holding you tight. Preventing you from running away.

“Hey! Hey! (___), it’s fine. It’s fine now. You’re going to be okay.”

“No. No. Stay away from me!” You shriek. “No.” Your vision is turning dark. In a minute everything turns back into a desperate struggle. You’re struggling to get away. He’s struggling to keep you stay put.

“Baby please! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

What is he even talking about?

“Let me go please.” You mutter under your breath one last time before completely giving up. Your body once again being victim to the extreme exhaustion you’re feeling. He just doesn’t listen to you, however. Says the only things he’s been saying all these time. That you’re fine. And you almost make up your mind to accept your fate. Accept that there’s no way of getting away. Away from this night. This nightmare. You almost believe that you will never be able to wake up. That you're forever trapped in his vice grip. Yet, just as you’re about to fall limp against his hold, a shadow of a figure appears in the doorway. Suddenly. Rushed sounds follow it.

You snap your head toward the sound. Hope bubbling inside you. Hope that is paired with a fear that you’re not getting any help. A fear that everything is about to get worse if that’s even possible. But as you turn your head you’re met with an extremely familiar pair of brown orbs. Panicked. Wide. Face twisted ugly in fear. Panting harshly.

Jung Hoseok!

A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes you immediately. Relief flushes over your every cell.

“Hoseok!” You cry out. In relief. Your tears suddenly turn out to be ones of joy. “Hoseok.” You repeat. Voice a breathless whisper. His eyes land directly on you. His panicked eyes. Then he averts his gaze down. Despite your best efforts you follow his line of vision. Eyes back on the man on the floor. Throat pierced and covered in blood. Your stomach churn awfully again.

“Holy fuck!” Hoseok curses, turning pale like cold ashes. Everything shifts into a frozen stillness following his curse. For a second. It’s like things are happening in slow motion. Like it’s a movie instead of your very reality. Only the club music and distant people chattering fills the air.

“(___), fuck. Fuck, let her go!”

That voice breaks the stillness and everything comes crashing back into motion. You barely recognize that voice to be Jimin’s. Arms around your body tightens like a coiled serpent. Like a trap. Holding you tight. Tight like a drowning man clutching a lifeline. Like he’s afraid. Afraid that you’ll go. As he should since that’s your intention. You thrash against his iron-like grip. Clenching your jaw.

Only now do you realize that Hoseok hasn’t been alone. Somewhere in between the tightening grip around you and your struggle you’ve noted each of your friends one by one.

Jimin is the one who jumps into action first. Who breaks the shock of seeing fresh blood oozing from a dying man first. He lashes at your captivator like an enraged lion. Then just after a split second Hoseok does the same.

A harsh punch thrown in your classmate’s face by Jimin and you feel the grip around you loosens. Then you’re being completely free from the tight hold. You barely catch the sight of Jimin grabbing your nameless friend’s hoodie and the way he does the same to Jimin’s.

And everything happens so fast for you to comprehend. A fleeting hug of comfort and you’re pushed into your best friend’s hand. Hoseok and Jimin tackle down your ex-classmate together. For a skinny, quiet kid, he sure has a lot of strength. Yet is facing defeat against two other men. You hear lots of groans and curses. The sound of bones cracking. You see the livid faces of Hoseok and Jimin. And you think they’re going to kill the kid.

You’re paralysed with fear. Being able to do nothing but just watch.

They’re going to kill him.

Someone else is going to die.

He’s about-

Daebi lets go of you suddenly. You don’t even get a second to process what’s happening before Daebi is barrelling at the mound of human balls on the floor. Then she’s doing her best to yank Jimin off from the kid’s body. Trying to stop him from landing punch after harsh punch in his already battered face. When she fails, she tries to get Hosoek away. While you and a frozen Nina just watch.

“No.” Daebi’s voice mixes into the disgusting noises of bone cracking and whimpering. “No. You’d kill him. Hoseok, stop it.” She tries her best to no avail. Two men don’t even budge. But the good thing is your best friend doesn’t know when to give up either. “There’s someone dying. We-” She yanks from Hoseok’s arm. Says something you can’t hear. Then all of sudden she yells through the top of his lungs.“Someone is fucking wounded Hoseok. We need to go.” That somehow does the trick. Hoseok stops his violence immediately. As if he just remembers the man just lying a few feets apart from them. He turns his head toward the said man. Then at you. You watch as indecision flashes across his eyes. And you think he wouldn’t care. But just as the thought crashes in your mind, Hoseok rushes into his feet. He yanks Jimin apart from the now beaten guy far more easily than Daebi.

“No. That’s enough Jimin. We need to go.” He practically dargs Jimin back. Jimin protests. Violently. But Hoseok manages to drag him away. Away from the kid who’s lying down on the floor. And for the first time you see his face. Face covered in blood. Ruined. Pink pretty lips you’ve grown to admire are splitted. But even in this state you just know he’s breathtaking. You have no time to admire anymore, however. Just after that brief glance, you find your face buried in Hoseok's broad chest.

“Oh, I’m so sorry baby.” He mutters into your hair as new sobs ripple through your body. You will never be the same again. Have no idea what’s going to happen next. Yet your friends are arguing. Or at least Jimin and Daebi are. Nina is just staring ahead. Emptily.

“We need to leave.” Daebi hisses hurriedly.

“For fucks sake Daebi, there’s someone dying, we need to help him.” Jimin hisses back.

“Yeah? And what do you think would happen then? That someone would come and give you a fucking medal for saving his life?”

“Then what? We’re leaving him to die?”

“Yes!” Daebi shouts so loud that you wince. “That’s exactly what we’re doing. C’mon let’s go.” She almost turns around but stops when nobody else follows her. No one even moves a finger. “What?” So, she faces everyone again.

“We’re not leaving someone to die, Daebi.” This time it’s Nina who comes to help Jimin. Makes Daebi drags in a heavy breath which she exhales shakily. You watch as your best friend takes a firm step toward Nina.

“If we stay here, trust me, Nina, it won’t be just him who’s dying tonight.” Her gaze wanders over everyone. Slowly. One by one. “That dude,” She points at the man who’s barely hanging there now. You don’t follow her gesture. Just stay in Hoseok’s embrace, shivering. “We don’t even know who he is. What the fuck are we going to do, if he’s a fucking big deal. What if he's a capo? No- no, what if he’s the fucking leader-” She trembles visibly. Oh, she knew the rumors aren’t just rumors, then. But you can’t fight over that now. “Staying here won’t do any good to us guys. We just- fuck, let’s just leave.” She ends her rambling with a desperate plea. “Please.”

This time everyone regards her with shocked silence. Until Jimin tries one more time.

“B-but, we didn’t do anything. We have the guy, we just-” Jimin stops mid sentence. A horrified gasp leaves his mouth. Then a low curse. You find it impossible not to pull away from Hoseok and see what’s going on. Everybody does. Follow Jimin’s vision. “Where the fuck did he.. Go?” Jimin whispers inaudibly. All your eyes land on the spot where the beaten to death kid was laying. Empty. Now in the spot is a pool of blood but nothing else. You gasp aloud.

How did he?

But apparently that’s the least of your problems. Hoseok’s voice reminds you of that.

“Fuck! We need to leave.” He repeats Daebi’s words. In a hurry. You turn to him in disbelief.

“B-but…”

“Baby we need to leave. I don’t want any of us to tangle in this mess. We are going.” He cups your face. You peer at his brown eyes. Comforting. Strong. Panicked, yes but he’s providing you strength. You don’t know about the right thing or wrong thing. You just need to go home. Just to hide. Forget. So, you just nod.

“What about the fucking proofs dude? They’ll fucking find us and we’ll be fucking suspects if we run.” Jimin still disagrees.

“No. Trust me Jimin. As long as we get away from here, no one would know. I’m pretty sure he has millions of enemies who want to kill him and this is a club that covers every shit. We just need to run and save our fucking asses.”

That’s the last thing anyone says. You don’t question anything again. Just allow Hoseok to drag your weak, shaking body back into the crowded club. Through the drunken people and out. You don’t even look around to see if your classmate- Mr. No Name- was there. You no don’t care what happened to him or where he disappeared. You just let your friends guide you back home.

Like you’re in a dream.

……………………………

After a month

“I can’t believe you fucked up that chance Jungkook.” Daebi places her hands on her hips. Eyes warily graze over the pale kid on the spacious bed. A black patch over one of his doe eyes. Face still very much ruined and covered in a dozen plasters. Lips chapped and pale. He looks starved but Daebi knows it’s quite the opposite. He’s been receiving good care. Parents have filthy money, after all. A little lie about an accident covered it all up.

Jungkook scoffs. At least try to scoff since all that comes out is a wince. A wince in pain as he still can’t move his lips. “You left her alone way earlier, Daebi. It wasn’t my fault.” He mumbles in between painful breaths. Turns his dark eyes toward Daebi who’s just standing there casually. As if she’s familiar with the place even though this is her first time at Jungkook’s parents’ house. Daebi does a very successful scoff.

“So, it’s my fault now?” She gestures at herself.

“Yes.” Jungkook grumbles. And Daebi feels a slight shiver at the way his eyes darken. “And that motherfucker’s who thought he could get away after fucking touching her.” That crazed look clouds his eyes again. Daebi saw it that day at the club. A moment before everything went crashing down. A moment before she pointed him in the direction you disappeared with a strange man. A crazed look that screams murder. Destruction. It takes her a moment to collect herself.

“Y-you’re so fucking crazy Jungkook.” She manages to get it out without shaking. “If you hadn't done something so stupid—” A harsh gulp to soothe her suddenly dry throat. “Like, what the fuck dude? Killing someone?”

“He’s not fucking dead apparently.” Jungkook disregards the way Daebi starts to look frightened. Says that with a regret in his voice. This time Daebi does tremble. “And you think that’s stupid?” He questions with a raised eyebrow. “I would’ve fucking skinned him alive if (___) hadn’t interfered.”

Daebi doesn’t answer that. Simply because she doesn’t know how.

He’s regretting that he couldn’t kill him.

He is crazy.

Crazier than she thought when she met him for the first time.

“And you shouldn’t have left her alone that early. What were you thinking Daebi? You were in that much of a hurry to suck Hoseok’s cock?”

Jungkook continues when Daebi doesn’t answer. She flinches at his words. Because, in fact, that was what happened. She was in a hurry to get alone with Hoseok. But that wasn’t her fault entirely. Jungkook should’ve been there.

“Well, you should’ve come early. Besides, if you have managed to take her the first time, then none of this could’ve happened.”

Jungkook straightens up in his bed.

“What first time?” Asks. Doesn’t receive an answer. “Ah.. that first time where you fucked it up by sending her boyfriend home early?”

“That’s not my fault that Nina fucking decided to crash at my place that day. You had more than an hour, Jungkook. Wasn’t that enough.”

“Yes, it wasn’t.”

“Okay, then let’s just say we fucked up, huh? We failed twice. But remember it was me who walked that much of a length to get her into your hands and you lost it.”

“Because, you wanted to help me?” Jungkook finally manages to scoff through the pain.

“That doesn’t matter, Jungkook. We both failed. I don’t know why I came here today. You seem to be doing fine. Good. Let’s not see each other again. Have a great fucking life.” Daebi grits her teeth. This kid makes her scared in a strange way. Yet at the same time he makes her mad nonetheless. It was completely his fault. She managed to steal your wallet. Created a perfect opportunity for him to take you. You were just a girl after all. And Jungkook is undeniably a hot man. Daebi believed that Jungkook would have a trick or two to play hidden up his sleeves when it comes to women. Even if he didn't, that was fine. Daebi wouldn’t have cared as long as Jungkook took you. Made you his. So, Hoseok would be hers. That was the plan. And he- stupid Jeon Jungkook- ruined everything. So, she had to sacrifice her birthday to the mission. When she had suggested Elysium, it had never been her plan to cause anyone any arm. It was not what she wanted. All she wanted was a fun night at a place that is dangerous. Danger gives Daebi a thrill. But since Jungkook failed the first time, she had to make alterations to her birthday plans. And that was ruined too.

Fuck this!

Daebi grabs her bag from the armchair next to her. Almost leave the room when Jungkook speaks up.

“You failed. I didn’t.” He mumbles slowly. Makes Daebi turn around in sudden interest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I haven’t given up, Daebi. I won’t. I just-” He sighs heavily. Eyes getting dreamy. “I- I just need a little time. I will never give up on her.”

A silence falls following his words. Daebi just gapes at his face.

This is interesting.

A spark of hope bubbles inside her.

She was so close to getting what she wanted. Hoseok and you were finally starting to crumble. Her plan was to let Jungkook have you, but it has turned out to be in her favor in the end anyway. You were apparently playing with Hoseok's patience, being stubborn. Being a nuisance. Being a nag. The fight that broke between you two was doing Daebi a great favour.

See now, she knows Hoseok loves her. It’s just he’s a little coward who can’t make a decision. Or to act upon one. He has a heart too good for himself. He doesn’t want to dump you that way. And he doesn’t believe he loves Daebi. Or that Daebi loves him. In Hoseok’s mind, it is just lust. Which isn’t true. Daebi just knows it’s love. Ever since the day she saw him, she has loved him. Too bad that you are an inseparable part of the equation. Too bad Hoseok thinks he genuinely loves you. He doesn’t. If he does, he never would have ended up in Daebi’s bed. Still he believes that and he was so close to breaking off his sexual affair with Daebi. Of course, she has no other options but to do something. That’s when she found Jeon Jungkook. Someone who could understand her feelings. Someone who loves you madly. Like she loves Hoseok.

They both could’ve won if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s sudden thirst for blood.

Hoseok was about to break up with you. Then everything took that damn turn. Daebi had to watch Hoseok rocks and soothe you the entire night. Kissing you over and over. Apologizing for not being there. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear.

Daebi had to endure his harsh words after a week. That they are nothing but a mistake and they should stop. Had to listen to him confessing his true love to you. Had to watch his guilt trip, blaming everything that happened on himself. Had to pretend to be your best friend and not hurt when you became the main character of everyone’s life. The way Hoseok became a doting boyfriend who did his everything to make sure you’re fine.

And she’s getting tired. Fucking tired.

But Jungkook’s words suddenly give her hope.

Just like he gave her hope months ago.

……………………..

Two months ago

“You’re the one who texted me?” Jungkook clenches his jaw. His voice a low, dangerous grumble, that Daebi takes an involuntary step back.

“Y-yes.” Nonetheless she answers without missing a beat.

“Why?” Another growl from the guy hidden behind a hoodie. This time it’s not exactly low. Okay, maybe Daebi has fucked up. The thing is, she doesn’t know the answer for herself. It just happened. She saw an unknown number pop up in your inbox. She was mad at the way Hoseok carried you inside the room. As if he hadn’t just fucked the life out of her a minute ago. So, she replied. Pretending to be you. She didn’t know who the person texting you was. She just texted back. Maybe deep down she expected to cause trouble between Hoseok and you. But then she found out who was texting. She found out about Jeon Jungkook. Thanks to her extensive research skills.

And then she got an idea. In between her sneaky texting with him, whenever she got a hold of your phone, she realized that he obviously likes you. That’s where the idea struck in. Hence the reason for this meetup. A quick text to meet her here.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” This time the guy shouts so loudly that Daebi jumps on her feet. This is a bad idea.

“I don’t know.” She shouts back.

“For fucks sake, bitch!” The guy- who she now knows to be Jeon Jungkook- takes a hurried, threatening step toward her. Fast and unexpected that she almost loses her balance. Ends up balancing herself on the rusty fence behind her.

“No. Wait.” She brings her hands forward. Stopping the guy from coming any nearer. He listens surprisingly. Halts his steps for a beat. “You like her, don’t you?” Daebi asks hurriedly. A silence.

“What’s that for you?”

“I would like to help you.”

Another silence. A long one. A very long one before he takes a step back. Brings a hand up to push his hoodie back. Looks Daebi dead in the eye. And her breath hitches. It’s ridiculous how Daebi has to bite inside her cheek to not to gasp at the sight.

He- if nothing else- is freaking beautiful.

Daebi has thought he had a scar or something in his face that made him hide his face. But this? This isn’t a type of face someone should hide.

“Why?” He questions again, making her come down to earth. She opens her mouth to answer but he beats her up to it. “Because you are in love with her boyfriend?”

The breath gets knocked out of Daebi’s lungs. A loud gasp escapes her. Eyes wide and jaw dropping to the floor, she presses herself more against the rusty fence. Nobody knew. Not Jimin. Not Nina. No one. So how could he-

“What made you think I need your help Daebi? (___) would be ecstatic to hear what her best friend and boyfriend have been doing behind her back. I don’t need your help. I can manage for myself.” A sly smirk appears on his face. Daebi almost forgets to reply at her shocked state. Despite the urge to ask how he knows, she decides to play the cards. And win, of course.

“What made you think that just telling her about us would make her fall for you? What are you going to do? Become her pathetic shoulder to cry?” She finally pulls away from the fence behind her. It’s now Daebi’s time to smirk when Jungkook’s smile slowly starts to disappear. “And you think that would make her love you? Oh, Jungkook, she loves Hoseok a little too much for that to happen.” Daebi takes a step forward. Now in confidence. She starts to take part in the game as well. “She never even intended to reply back to you-”

“How would you know?”

“I’m her best friend, of course, I know.”

“You’re wrong. She already likes me.”

“In your fucking dreams, Jeon,” Fuck! She shouldn’t have said that. Jungkook’s eyes turn dark as she watches. Dark and empty. Crazy. A shiver runs down Daebi’s spine at that look. “Listen to me,” Yet she manages to hide that shiver. Manages to appear confident. “She damn loves Hoseok. Even if you go and tell her that he’s been cheating on her, that’s going to do nothing but breaks her heart. You-” She points a finger at the kid in front of her. “Are nothing but the pathetic kid she decided to pity,” That crazed look intensifies. She’s playing with fire. One wrong move, and she’d burn. “It’s just pity, Jungkook. She pities you. But-” Daebi holds a hand up at the right moment Jungkook tries to say something. “Maybe we can change that. Let’s get this clear. I want Hoseok and you want (___). I’ll help you and in return you’ll help me. Take her away from Hoseok. I know you love her and maybe you can treat her better.”

Jungkook’s crazed eyes immediately brighten..

Oh, he’s crazy.

But also stupid.

Daebi just knows that she hit the jackpot with those words.

“And if you don’t believe me, just try asking her out for a coffee. See if she would agree even on friendly terms.” Yet she continues to play. She has an idea after all. All she needs is for Jungkook to comply. She waits a minute to see what he would say. And just like she knew his face goes a slight red. A warm red that makes him look adorable.

“H-how?”

“What do you mean, how? Just ask her out.”

“I just can’t do that. What if she just-”

“Reject you? And stop talking to you ever again?” Daebi raises one of her shaped eyebrows. Jungkook says nothing to that. “Well, you shouldn’t just let her do that then. You really love her, so make sure she knows. I’ll find a perfect opportunity for you to be alone with her. What do you say?”

There it is. Daebi’s meticulously crafted plan to make you fall in for someone else. She can’t think about someone else other than this person in front of her to be honest. She waits patiently until he agrees.

“I can ask her out during a class.”

Then he answers, much to her dismay. Daebi hadn’t expected him to disagree. Hence, a moment of hesitance on her side. Only for a moment, though. Daebi is a woman who knows what she does, after all. There’s no way she would just back up.

Here’s the case. It would be alright to let Jungkook play his game alone. But the thing is Daebi knows you like the back of her hand. You are in love with the same man as she is. And you will never fall for someone else. Not that easily. That’s why they need a plan. Like Daebi offers. See, Jungkook is stupid.

“Well, then she would have the perfect chance to say no and walk out. Now we don’t want that, do we Jeon Jungkook. Trust me this once. Just try asking her and-” Daebi stares at the innocently crazed look in this man’s eyes. Maybe he would get angry at her. Maybe she shouldn’t complete her sentence. Now it’s too late to back down, however. “- and- if she says no then you can make sure she- uh… let’s say… understand that you love her.”

Silence.

Utter, deafening silence.

And the threatening look he gives her.

Then, at last, after what feels like years, he gives a nod.

“Of course, she’ll understand that I love her.”

“Perfect.”

…………………….

A month after the incident (At Jungkook’s parent’s house)

Jungkook looks into Daebi’s hopeful eyes. For some reason, this woman disgusts him. Probably because she’s hurting you. You don’t know it yet, but she is. But she’s a useful ally and he can’t deny that.

I want Hoseok and you want (___).

She had said. But she was wrong. She wants Hoseok but Jungkook needs you. It’s not just a want. Not anymore. Now after that one taste. After he held you. Kissed you. Smelled you. The need has become feral. He won’t give up. Not ever. Even if it takes years.

“You should stick to what you’re good at, Daebi. Being a bitch. Let’s be sure to see each other again someday.” Jungkook tries to smile. Daebi hesitates for a moment. Then as if she knows that this isn’t the time, she turns around. Walks away. Without another word. And Jungkook falls back onto his bead.

Ready to lose himself in thoughts of you.

Oh, he’ll definitely treat you better.

And he’ll wait till the day he can do so.

END

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I planned on writing smut here but then got a better idea (trust me)

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